Power Play
by Ranranami
Summary: Immediately following the events of 'Don't Let the Sun', Michael and Star have a lot to learn about being pack. Namely, playing by David's rules. And not to mention the new packs that moved into Santa Carla during their little vacation. Luckily, Sam and the Frogs might be of some use, if not a good distraction while David reclaims the city.
1. Chapter 1: Drinks on the House

Author's notes: Well, um...there's some major naughtiness in this chapter. Gotta say, first time ever writing something like this. Apparently the more people involved, the more difficult it is to keep things vague. Anyway, if you'd rather skip it, all you need to know is pretty much what you learned in the last story. David does bad things to Michael and Star simultaneously. This is basically what happened when Paul and Marko were sitting outside listening in at the end of the last story. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a confession to go to.

* * *

Sam jammed a fistful of popcorn in his mouth, eyes wide and unblinking as the man drew closer. Cape drawn over his face...gaze piercing through his very soul...he knew once the bite was made, unless there was a skilled vampire hunter along the likes of Abraham Van Helsing, there was no way in hell the monster wouldn't succeed in his kill. And just as the cape was drawn away to reveal a mouthful of glittering white fangs, Alan dropped down beside him on the couch with a couple of cokes.

"Hey, what'd I-"

 **"AHHHH!"** Sam shrieked, flipping the popcorn bucket off of his lap and spilling it all over the carpet of the Frog brothers' living room. Edgar glared up at Sam from his comfortable position on the floor where he'd been taking notes. The bucket had fallen right on top of his head, and little bits of melted butter dripped around his ears.

"Sam. If you're going to join us for our research marathons, you've got to stop tearing up our living room! And..." Edgar dabbed at his ear and licked his finger, "stop using so much butter. It'll clog your arteries."

Sam reached for the bucket on Edgar's head, blushing furiously, and began to pluck bits of popcorn off of the carpet. Alan, meanwhile, kicked up his legs on the free space left at the couch and tossed a can of coke to Edgar, setting Sam's aside for now, popping his own open in the process.

"So I heard some rumors about bodies washing up again on the beach," Sam remarked, glancing back up at the television screen in front of him just in time to catch the sight of an aged hunter advancing on the vampire count, cross held out in front of him, a glorious expression of righteous victory plastered on his face. Honestly, these movies didn't seem too helpful. Sam had yet to see one of those shit-suckers walking that slow when they were being threatened. Not that he'd really met many...other than the Lost Boys. But they definitely weren't slow!

"On the beach?" Alan frowned, taking a thoughtful gulp of soda. "Yep. Sounds like vampires, alright."

"Well, no...I mean it could just be a serial killer or something. It was just a lead," Sam shrugged, getting impatient with the popcorn and simply dragging his hands across the carpet to start scooping them up in fistfuls. He didn't care if he picked up lint and grit in the process, or smeared butter into the ground. It wasn't his living room. And it wasn't like the Frogs kept an immaculate house anyway. Everything was pretty much in a perpetual state of mess.

"Then it's decided. Tomorrow night, we start looking for anyone causing trouble on the boardwalk. Keep your mirrors on you, we'll see if we can spot some shit-suckers," Edgar growled, running a hand through his slightly greased hair (no thanks to Sam) and looking back down at his notebook. He hadn't learned much tonight on their research marathon. Except maybe if they saw an Asian guy hopping around with a funny cap, he was probably a Chinese vampire...

Speaking of weird vampire facts...they had to replace the lentils on the doorstep. Birds had been getting at it again, and you could never be too careful.

* * *

When Marko and Paul had been sitting outside the bar, speculating exactly what the trio were doing inside, David had been busy divesting Michael of his shirt. Of course, he took his sweet time, just to make the boy squirm. They were all crouched together on the ground now, Star behind David, nipping at his shoulder in an effort to get his attention, drawing her slender arms around him to caress his stomach. And that just wouldn't do. David set the pace, and David got to choose what he was going to focus on when he wanted.

As he tossed Michael's shirt aside, David turned his head slightly to catch Star's mouth in his, biting down on her bottom lip just enough to draw a few drops of blood, and making her squeak in the process.

"So here's what we're gonna do, kids," he whispered, reaching forward to press a hand against Michael's chest and force him onto his back as he crawled forward to line himself up on top of the boy. "Star, I want you to keep your hands to yourself and _watch._ If I decide you've been a good girl, I'll let you have your fun, too. Understood?" He turned back to glance at Star, who looked like she was about to protest, but remained silent in favor of the slight lowering of his eyebrows. She was in no state right now to fight for dominance with her master. And she didn't want to, either.

David kept his eyes locked on her until Star reluctantly crawled back a few feet, tucking her knees up to her chest and locking her hands together, watching them both. He might have lingered just a bit longer in the moment, gloated over how easy it was to make her do what he wanted, when he felt Michael shift beneath him, whining impatiently.

The bleach blonde vampire smirked, looking back down at his other fledgling, reaching down to desperately work at unbuttoning his jeans. David pushed his hands out of the way in favor of doing it himself, sliding Michael's pants down just as slowly as he had removed the boy's shirt. After two years of constant tracking and hunting, this was almost _too_ easy.

Star huffed, a little jealously, as she watched both of the men finally strip down completely. It wasn't that she wanted David in particular right now, or even Michael. But the feeling of being left out was making her restless. Slowly unlocking her hands, she lowered her knees and scooted just a few inches closer, further to the right so she could get a better look at them.

David paused to admire Michael's body. He'd gotten a few good looks through motel windows over the years, even a couple of times got to sneak a peak of the boy taking a shower, but it was much more satisfying to be close enough to touch, and certainly without the danger of Michael trying to shove him into a pair of deer horns. Speaking of which...even now, David still wasn't completely satisfied he'd had his revenge for that, just yet. Well, who said he couldn't do it right now? Teach Michael another kind of pain?

If Michael were in his right mind, he might have tried to push David away. He certainly wouldn't be having sex with him, and not in a bar, if his lingering human nature had anything to say about it. He'd never once in his life thought the idea of tangoing in the sheets with two leads appealing in any sense of the word. Hell, even back in school he preferred changing alone in a stall during practice as opposed to the sausage party in the locker rooms.

Just then, David shifted on top of Michael just slightly enough to make the boy spasm beneath him, so he could draw Michael's legs up around his shoulders and lean down to get himself a little bit better acquainted with Little Michael. And Star continued to watch intently from the sidelines, laying down so she could prop her head up on one hand and scoot just a little bit closer. David still hadn't said anything.

Michael gasped, arching his back when he felt David's mouth engulfing him. And then something pressing up against his entrance. The combination was more than a little stimulating, and he just barely managed to restrain himself from immediately thrusting forward at the sound of a warning growl from David.

"Please," Michael whispered, his toes curling. " _Oh god_ , please, don't stop..."

For David, this just wouldn't do. If Michael was still sensible enough to know how to talk, he'd just have to work him up a bit more. So he did, pressing his finger deeper, wiggling it just slightly enough to make the boy jerk again in surprise, and continuing with his other ministrations focused on the boy's cock.

Star whimpered nearby, the sound of Michael's cries and the sight of David taking him so slowly in front of her was nearly too much for the girl. It was getting a lot more difficult to hold back and behave herself. To just watch, and desperately hope she'd be invited to take part soon. She worried that by the time this little part was done, there'd be nothing left for _her._

David continued to work Michael, drawing more strangled cries and gasps, still drawing it out as slowly as possible, until he was satisfied that the only sounds Michael could make anymore were far beyond any comprehensible language. And even when he finally came deep inside David's throat, the blonde didn't stop there. He kept going, pressing his fingers in, milking Michael until there was nothing left, and he was so sensitive that he began to scream in protest and pleasure at the same time. Only then was he finally satisfied enough to pull away, and simply gaze down at Michael smugly, reaching his free hand down to brush a few locks of matted hair away from the boy's forehead.

Then, finally, David looked towards star and nodded at her, urging the girl to join in. She practically stumbled, as eager as she was to comply. David pressed a hand to the back of her hand, pulling Star forward to kiss her, and she could taste Michael on his tongue.

"Now, I want you to be a good girl for me and sit here," David leaned forward to pat Michael's bare chest with his free hand. Michael squirmed and whined again beneath him, when he felt another finger join in on the fun. David was apparently a very good multitasker.

But David had his limits, and he could only focus on others so long before he got impatient. So, he retrieved his hand from Michael's entrance and shifted again to pull the boy's legs down until they were wrapped around his hips, which Michael was very eager to do. It almost hurt, actually.

"Are you ready, Star?" David taunted, as she nodded, practically driven over the edge by being forced to wait so long. Apparently she had a little bit of a voyeurism streak in her, and she didn't even know it.

"What about you, Mikey,? You ready?" He craned over the side to get a glimpse at Michael's face, and the boy almost shook his head, already so overwhelmed by sensation...but at a warning glare from David, he quickly nodded and let his head fall back against the floor, simply too exhausted to say anything now.

In one swift movement, David reached forward to tear Star's skirt, and good riddance to it. Paul had awful taste. But that did create a problem, he mused, casually driving himself into Michael. The boy cried out, digging his hands into Star's torso as she sat on his chest, claws drawn from his first change drawing scratches in her flesh. She joined him, surprised by the sudden attack, and then driven even further into the throes of pleasure and pain when David leaned forward to tease at her thigh with his tongue, digging his fangs deep into her femoral artery.

And that, of course, wasn't the only place his mouth lingered, once he sated himself on her blood. By the time Star reached her climax, with David following, and surprisingly even Michael had managed to gather enough energy again to ride the wave with them...David realized they would definitely have to get her some more clothes before they left the bar that night. But it was with no small measure of effort that he drug himself away from her to head to the door and shove it open with some effort, thanks to Paul's fat ass sitting on the other side.

With instructions given, David eagerly returned to the pair, and while he waited for fresh pants and a jacket to clothe Star in, he didn't see the harm in another round...

* * *

Dwayne crossed his arms, watching the car sink below the surface of the pond. He'd broken the license plate just for good measure, just in case the mess they left in this hick town somehow got tracked back to Santa Carla. Not that they couldn't deal with anyone following them, but they already had so much to deal with in the near future, the trouble simply wasn't worth it. Plus, if David had been successful in getting them to feed tonight, which Dwayne didn't doubt he was...neither Michael nor Star would have an excuse now not to ride with them.

Well, there was nothing to do now but grab a bite to eat. He was pretty sure he saw a few hookers in the parking lot of a hardware shop he'd passed earlier when they'd first arrived. Hopefully they kept a routine schedule, because he didn't want to have to go through the hassle of breaking into someone's house tonight. The Lost Boys all preferred hunting out in the open. Especially after dealing with that little blonde fuck and those comic book geeks. Speaking of which, he was a little disappointed Michael's brother would still be off the menu for the time being. But at least they'd taken care of one major problem. Now all they had to do was start the ride back home, which was going to take about three nights by his estimates if they played it safe.


	2. Chapter 2: New Clothes

Author's notes: I was off today, so I figured nothing wrong with posting a second chappie. :)

* * *

"Mom! We're out of lentils!" Alan shouted from the kitchen pantry, digging through different flowery canisters with no luck. Any sort of grain would do, really, as long as there was plenty of it. But lentils were just so easy to clean up and store in the morning.

"Oh, baby...that's too bad," his flower child mother swanned into the kitchen, and then the pantry to stand beside him. "Why don't you use some beans, instead?"

"Those are too easy to count!" Alan argued, "they're way too big. We need something with at least a half radius if we expect this to last us more than a few hours," he insisted. And he might as well have been speaking Greek for all she knew. But his mother simply shrugged and smiled, kissing him on the cheek before gliding out as she shook her head, laughing. She probably wouldn't have understood much of what he was saying anyway, even if it did make sense. It was a Saturday night, and she was very much in her own world right now.

Alan slammed his forehead against the wall in frustration. Whether anything was going to come to their 'compound' (as Ed liked to call it) tonight or not, they needed to be prepared at all times! They'd have to swipe some cash from the till tomorrow for grocery money.

"Hey! Alan! Come in here! Those surfing jerks are on the local news!" Ed shouted from the other room. Alan rolled his eyes, continuing to dig through the pantry, for something... _anything_ that might work instead of lentils. Maybe split peas? They were like...five years old at least...but it wasn't like the bloodsuckers would try to eat them. They were just a distraction. There was no way in hell he ever wanted to see vampires on the doorstep, but he really was anxious to know if this counting thing was true or not. It would be an incredible weapon in their arsenal if it was...

* * *

Marko sailed through the broken store window, his shopping trip finally completed. It had taken about three our four different break-ins up and down the street to find something that wasn't bedazzled or lined with strips of suede fringe. The women in this town had god-awful taste. Not to mention the unbelievable prices. A t-shirt with a sparkling cow on the front and 'Texas' emblazoned in big red letters was not worth a hundred bucks. If he was paying for any of this shit, he'd be livid.

The best he could do for jeans was a black pair lined on the pant seams with metal studs. But hey, it was better than rhinestones. Actually, he wouldn't mind taking a few of the weird fabrics here and cutting out some patches for his jacket...Marko sailed back into the shop to grab them. It took him a good half hour before he was finally satisfied, and an irritated voice interrupted his tour of the finest shopping the hick town had to offer...

 _"Marko, hurry the fuck up. They'll be waking up soon."_

Marko snatched up a mid-waist black denim jacket he'd been debating about for Star, and rolled his eyes, " _you wear them out that bad, Davey?"_

 _"You always do this when I send you on an errand. This whole shit show would have been over six months ago if you weren't always dragging your ass!"_ David snapped back.

 _"Bitch, bitch, bitch...that's all you do. I'm coming, okay?"_

 _"I'm kicking your ass when we get home."_

The curly-haired vampire frowned, striding away from the shop over shards of broken glass. So he had Star's things. Got a few patches for himself. An antique brooch (because it was shiny.) Hell, he'd even found a pair of riding boots for Mikey so the little baby wouldn't feel left out. Not that Marko thought he'd be grateful. Judging from what he could remember, the brunette was more than a little on the moody side. Speaking of which, he really didn't want to miss seeing them wake up. It would make for an awesome show. Marko picked up his pace, darting back in the direction of the bar. He could have flown, but he didn't want to draw any attention if anyone happened to be taking a late night walk.

* * *

Michael pressed his face close to the back of Star's head, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. She smelled just like jasmine. Funny, though, he hadn't remembered falling asleep on the meadow in this position, curled up on his side with her pleasantly soft parts folded against him. Not that he minded it, of course. Still...hadn't they been wearing under-

Images flooded his mind of the last few hours. A bar. David's little proposal. A gunshot. Blood. Snapping necks. Watching in utter horror and gut-wrenching sadness as Star lost control, then ultimately giving in himself. And... _Oh god..._

Shame and self-disgust, thy name is Michael.

Surging up, Michael pushed away from star, who squeaked in protest, and wasn't too terribly surprised to see David perched near the booze-soaked bar, draining a bottle of beer, and taking puffs of a half-used cigarette.

" **YOU SON OF A BITCH!** " He climbed to his feet, snatching his jeans up from the ground and struggled to slide his leg into them so he could beat the shit out of David. He didn't want to do it naked, though. Not now that he really know the 'depth' of the bastard's disgusting kinks.

"Michael?" Star whispered groggily as she sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She was still wearing the lacy half-top and black bra, but not much else. If he wasn't so mad right now, he might have actively appreciated the sight. Zipping up his pants, he rounded on David with his fists drawn.

David took another puff of his cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray before setting his beer aside. "Hey, I was only giving you what you wanted," he informed the brunette dryly, standing up from his bar stool and spreading his arms wide. "But go ahead, Michael. Take your best shot."

Star gasped, pressing her hands to her mouth. Apparently everything had just dawned on her too, and she wasn't too happy about it. She lowered her head, quickly covering herself as best she could. Michael may have just had his sexuality expanded in ways he'd never thought possible, but at least he had a pair of god damned pants! That was more than she could say for herself.

Michael sailed forward, fists flying, throwing just about everything he had at David. They'd agreed to spend an hour in the bar, play nice, and join the Lost Boys for good if they gave in (which unfortunately, they'd lost), but at no point did the bastard say they'd have to _fuck him_ , too! As far as he was concerned, all bets were off now.

David didn't fight back, when Michael assaulted him, bloodying his face, nearly breaking his nose, and doing his damnedest to get a rise out of his maker. And when David decided it wasn't quite as fun anymore, he grabbed the boy's hands mid-punch, and pulled him close enough that they were pressed up close against each other in a position only moderately less intimate than the one they'd been in less than half an hour before.

"You listen to me, Michael. I'm only going to tell you once," David hissed dangerously, fangs drawn. He was still smiling, but his voice held a disturbing note of warning to it. And whereas Michael might have denied it before, even fought back and put up a front when he was only a half-vampire...there was a new voice now, pressing at the back of his mind, urging him to stay quiet if he knew what was good for him. Michael really wanted to tell that voice to fuck off.

"Me and the boys have been patient with both of you, even let you have a nice little country-wide tour for the last two years so you could say a nice good-bye to the fucking sun, since it was apparently _so_ god damned important," David continued, twisting one of Michael's arms behind a back and chuckling when he heard the boy give out a distinct hiss of pain. He spun him about as if they were dancing, until Michael's back was pressed up against the bar counter, even more vulnerable than before. "But it's over. We made an agreement. You both lost. Now you're coming home, and you won't fight me. You and Star...you're part of the family now, body and soul. There's no turning back. Star, drop the fucking chair."

During their scuffle, Star had grabbed a chair and tried sneaking up on David to break it over his head. But now that she'd been caught, she lowered it with a sigh. "Why couldn't you just let us go?" She asked him, sitting down on the chair and leaning down to tear at one of the dead men's coats so she could at least cover herself.

David chuckled, "that's a stupid question."

"But _why?!_ " Michael demanded, glaring up at him. He might not be fighting, but he was damned if he'd just lower his head and act as if he wasn't fucking pissed off.

"Because you're mine. Both of you. Forever."

David listened to the fledgling's thoughts after he said this, and wasn't surprised they both seemed to still have notes of rebellion in their minds. Plots. Ideas. Well, he'd just wait awhile to teach them how to read minds. Until they learned to behave, he wasn't going to make their lives any easier. He was going to _enjoy_ breaking them.

* * *

"Yeah, man. We saw these, like...crazy dudes. Big teeth. Crazy black eyes. They were wild. Weren't they wild, brah?" One of the surfers turned away from the interviewer to get confirmation from his buddy, who simply nodded with his jaw open, neon sunglasses covering his eyes. He'd been like that the whole interviewer.

"Well, folks, there you have it," the young woman turned back to the camera with her mic held tightly in her hands. "There are _monsters,_ in Santa Carla." She laughed. It was the same fake laugh every news reporter seemed to have perfected to a tee, no matter how ridiculous their news story. It was the laugh that said 'I don't believe any of this shit, but at least I'm on camera!' "Back to you, Hank. And remember...don't go surfing at night! Who knows what you'll run into, huh?"

The screen switched to a grinning man with an expertly shaped helmet of glistening brown hair, "hahah! Yes, Janice, that was truly...a terrorizing story. Can you imagine 'vampires' in Santa Carla, Dianne?" He turned towards his co-anchor.

"No, Hank, I definitely can't. Of course, if you're looking for a real killer this summer, let's talk about an adorable local lady who breeds and dyes all of her rabbits pink! The look...it's do die for-"

Edgar flipped off the television with a grunt, turning back towards Sam and Alan, who sat on the opposite couch with unreadable expressions.

"Ed...I thought vampires only had yellow eyes. This is bullshit." Sam shook his head. "It's fake. It's gotta be."

"...If it's real, though..." Alan gulped.

"If it's real...that means there's more than one type out there. And they're coming to Santa Carla. And if that's true-"

"...We're screwed." Alan agreed.

"And we gotta do a lot more research..." Sam added, looking down at his own notebook. Maybe if there were shit-suckers with black eyes...garlic _would_ work on them? He hated to think this was going to be a trial and error thing, if they ran into some of them on the beach. Maybe they could just give up this hunting thing and start staying home after dark...

"Shit. We gotta get a library card." Edgar growled, throwing his head back. He hated to think about it, but...they were going to have to fan out their sources...and that meant books _without_ pictures...


	3. Chapter 3: In the Rafters

Author's notes: Ugh. Tried watching the Tribe today, give it a second chance...I nearly flipped when they used that god-awful cover of Cry Little Sister. Nopenopenope.

* * *

Marko hadn't been happy he missed all the action, having finally arrived back at the bar to join Paul outside. Of course, Paul wasn't too happy either that the only good stuff he got to enjoy was the audio performance.

 _"Okay. You can come in, now."_ David informed them, and (surprise surprise) he sounded quite satisfied with himself. When they opened the door, Paul and Marko found their leader releasing his hold on a very incensed Michael, while Star sat at one of the tables with a bloodied coat drawn over her lap, looking for all the world like she had some kind of monopoly on self-disgust and hopelessness. Maybe some things didn't change.

"Well, well, well...looks like you three had a good time," Marko called out cheerfully, breaking the silence as he strode towards star to give her a gentlemanly bow and offer her the new clothes. She eyed them for a moment, doubtfully. As if she hadn't already seen the worst Marko and the others could dish out, or the pants and jacket were somehow poisonous substances.

"Go on, they won't bite," he gave her his most charming smile. If there weren't a monster lurking behind it, the effect might not have been so unnerving.

Grudgingly, Star reached out to snatch them from him without so much as a 'thank you' or 'fuck off'. She wasn't in the mood to play games. She'd had enough of them to last a lifetime, however long that was going to be now. But...she was a little relieved when she realized all she felt now for the Lost Boys was anger, perhaps resentment, a little uncomfortable, nervous...yet...there wasn't any fear. What was there to be scared of, anymore? After all, she was already dead. Dying again would be a fucking cakewalk compared to what she'd just done.

"So!" Paul clapped his hands together and rubbed them, "who's riding with who? Who's the lucky one who gets to hop on my hot rod?" Just so they got the message that he was trying to drive home a double entendre, Paul gyrated his crotch a few times. For good measure.

"What?" Michael asked, as if he hadn't understood the question. Riding bitch tonight had not been on his agenda, and he'd already done it once. Doing it on a bike was just adding insult to injury. And what about his grandpa's car? They couldn't just leave it there! If gramps ever saw him again, and didn't decide to stake him on the spot because he was a vampire, he'd definitely fucking do it if he found out his car was gone and never coming back.

Paul desperately wanted to make a snide remark about Michael's panicked thought process, but one quick warning look from David made him bite his tongue. So instead, he just leered at Star as she shuffled behind a booth to get dressed with at least a small measure of modesty, though the question of whether she had any left after the show she'd just taken part in was up for debate.

"Stop looking at me," she stated quietly, not even casting him a second glance. Right now, she just wanted to be left alone and ignored. Because she was afraid of what she might do if she lost her temper. There was an uncomfortable restlessness in her chest now that just made her want to lash out, and she didn't doubt whether it would always be there now that she'd finally been forced to feed and indulge the creature she'd never wanted to be in the first place.

"Star." David called her name, drawing her attention to him as she zipped up her jeans and began to shrug on her jacket.

"You're riding with Paul. Michael..." He turned towards the moody brunette, who already had a feeling he knew what David was going to say.

"You're the lucky one tonight. You get to ride bitch with _me_." He took one last swig of beer as he made his choice, before tossing the bottle to the ground and watching it smash into a thousand pieces.

Michael glared at the shattered glass, and then let his eyes linger on one of the bodies nearby. He should feel something right now. _Anything_. Anything besides...well...disinterest. Boredom, even. He should have another reason to regret what he and Star had finally been forced to do tonight, but the more he tried to dig deep and pull something out, at least a shred of guilt...the more he realized it simply wasn't there to give. When David ground his boot into the glass with a dark chuckle, and tossed a lit match behind him to ignite the alcohol drenching the counter top, Michael wondered if, just like the beer bottle, he and Star had also been shattered. Broken and reformed. He looked up just in time to catch Star's gaze as she crossed the bar and pressed a hand into his own.

"This is bullshit," he grumbled, summing up all of his mental poetry in that one phrase, and she couldn't help but nod in agreement.

* * *

Dwayne tucked his bike into the run-down barn, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand and licking off the remnants of his meal. It hadn't been a great one. Her blood was laced with meth and cheap liquor. But at least he'd fall to sleep pretty fast, this morning. He walked out to the entrance of the building and leaned against one of the half-rotted doors, keeping his eyes trained on the small town in the distance. They were probably on their way now, if the glowing orange haze focused near the center of the landscape was anything to judge by. He wished he could get a better view, but it was getting far too early to screw around right now.

Right on cue, he heard a cacophony of motors and howls, followed by the distinct sound of Paul cackling over some stupid shit he'd probably said. It was nice to note by their two new 'accessories' that they'd been successful. He shook his head, the corner of his lips tugged into a thin-lipped smirk. When David wanted something, he usually got it. Maybe now they'd be able to finally get back into their old routine, no more bullshit trying to find places to sleep or sparse meals driving through open country miles away from actual people. Dwayne tipped his head up to observe the early morning sky. Dawn would be coming soon. They'd cut it real close.

 _"Open wide, babe, we're coming in!"_ Paul's voice echoed in his mind, and he just shook his head, taking flight for one of the rafters nestled in the very corner of the roof, safe from any possible rays of daylight that would try to creep into the building.

Soon, three bikes cruised into the barn, kicking up bits of wet hay and dirt. With his claws comfortably embedded in the wood above him, Dwayne kept his eyes open and simply watched them.

When they dismounted, neither Star nor Michael seemed too anxious to go to bed, though they certainly looked exhausted enough. Marko and Paul took their places beside Dwayne, leaving David below to deal with his reluctant fledglings.

 _"Have fun dealing with two of them at once,"_ Dwayne remarked.

 _"Oh, don't worry. I did."_ David's curt response as he placed his arms around Star's and Michael's shoulders.

"Well, go on. You can't run anymore. Even if you could, the sun would cook you two to a crisp. And there's no moldy beds in here besides that..." he nodded towards a pile of damp hay bales, still covered in the festering entrails of the deer they'd decorated Grandpa Emerson's car with.

"And what if I want to sleep there?" Star crossed her arms, pulling away from him. His hand immediately lashed out to grab at her long hair, pulling it to his face. She gave a hiss, taking in a deep breath at the sudden pain.

"You can't. It's out in the open. You're too young to wake yourself in the middle of the day, so when that sun peeks through the door over there," he nodded from where they'd entered, "you'll just have to lie there. In agony. Until you're nothing but little bits of Star dust."

"Don't you hurt her," Michael growled.

David just rolled his eyes, "both of you. Get the fuck up in those rafters. _Now._ " Honestly, he felt like he was dealing with toddlers. Maybe he was.

Michael and Star exchanged a stubborn glance, and David just knew he was going to have to deal with a lot of this in the future. So he'd take care of _that_ little problem first thing tomorrow night. But they did finally give in, just in time. He could already see hints of lethargy in Star's limbs as she struggled to stir the wind about her to carry her towards the rafters.

David quirked an eyebrow when he noticed Michael hadn't immediately taken off after her. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"... _Michael."_

Michael scowled at him, and then flew towards where Star had nestled, tucking himself beside her and wrapping his arms about the girl's torso. They both had a little bit of trouble figuring out how to latch their claws together and embed them in the wood. But they managed. David took a deep breath for the sake of calming himself, because he didn't like to go to bed pissed, and joined his pack in the rafters, pressed close against Michael and Star so they could become better acquainted with his scent. They'd be dealing with a lot of that in the future.

 _"So..."_ Marko yawned aloud as they all began to shift and get comfortable with the growing light of dawn creeping over the horizon, _"What do I get for winning the bet?"_

 _"You didn't win the bet, Marko!"_ David snapped back. And here he'd almost managed to put himself in a good mood again. In fact, he was just about to say something else when he felt both of his fledglings unconsciously press closer to him, already having fallen into a deep sleep. He could deal with Marko later...


	4. Chapter 4: At the Library

Author's notes: Ah, the late 80s-mid 90s. When card catalogs were a thing, and computers were just beginning to become somewhat reliable sources of information, if you knew how to use them. I kinda miss card catalogs. They really made me feel like I was actually working hard to find my books.

* * *

Sam leaned against the library table, squinting at possibly the world's tiniest print. Perhaps this book could go in the Guinness book of world records for that very fact. It was a pain, but so far the only vaguely useful thing he'd been able to find. Ed and Alan were still bickering with each other as they dug through the shelves, debating whether or not they should look at detailed historical records of murders in the local area would be worth it, given how extensive they were. Not that Sam thought they'd be able to find much. He'd had to show them three times how to use the card catalog, and even the librarian had grown frustrated with their inability to absorb her advice. Ultimately they settled on studying old articles with the microfilm reader...because at least _those_ had pictures. So Sam was left alone in the main reading area, doing his best to stay awake and focus on whatever sort of obscure leads he could find about vampires with black eyes.

He found stories about vampires with blue nails. Vampires who detached their heads to go hunting at night. Vampires who just so happened to also be vegetables and/or fruits. Vampires who only went after their relatives (which was pretty fucking scary.) The more he read, the more he thought that either this book was just yanking his chain, or he was going nuts from sleep-deprivation. They _had_ been up all night watching Hammer films, after all...

Normally, he avoided the Frogs, to be honest. Visited them when he wanted to buy some new comics, or go down memory lane. Sometimes he'd visit just to brush up on his vampire knowledge, make sure he was prepared for whatever Santa Carla might dish out, if Grandpa hadn't been exaggerating when he said the town was crawling with them. He didn't generally go out of his way to do it more than once a week. But that last phone call with Mike had really freaked him out. It set him on edge, and made him seriously begin to wonder if his brother really would be caught by those shit-suckers once and for all. And...would they kill him? Wouldn't they have already done it by now if they'd planned on doing it? Or...would he have to seriously worry about Mike coming home and tapping on his bedroom in the middle of the night, begging to be let in. It happened in Salem's Lot...

Lowering his head with an exhausted moan, Sam blew a breath of air out on the paper in front of him. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to get some sleep, and wait for Mike to call to tell him 'hey, Sammy, sorry...I was being dumb. Everything's cool. I'm fine. There's no way in hell any vampires are coming to get me and Star anytime soon.' Yeah. Fat chance. For all he knew, Mike could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere with his head cut off, and a sign above it written in his own blood reading 'for the blood is the life'. Sam wrinkled his nose and sat up straight in his chair. Maybe he'd been watching too many horror movies...this was exactly why he hated horror. It made him freak out about everything.

All he'd learned to day was this: most vampires seemed to have issues with being beheaded, holy shit, and daylight. A few of them counted shit, a few more of them looked like shit. And a lot of them couldn't fly. So whatever kinda bloodsuckers Mike's stupid 'friends' were, they would probably be the only ones he'd meet who could be on the ground one second and hovering through his bedroom door the next...unless they could jump really high, which apparently some of them could do too.

"Face it. The only way you're gonna find out what these things can do is trial and error, bud," Sam huffed. Maybe he should just leave this to Ed and Alan...watch from the sidelines. Preferrably with a rosary made of holy garlic.

" _God damn it, Mike,_ " Sam pressed his hands to the side of his head and propped his elbows up on the table in front of him. Maybe if his brother hadn't been chasing tail their first night on the boardwalk, he wouldn't have to worry about any of this crap. He just hoped the stupid asshole was still safe...he was going to tear Mike a new one the next time he called. _If_ he called...

"You're breaking it! You gotta move the tray this way!" Edgar shouted from the other side of the library.

"I know what I'm doing! Stop hitting me!" Alan replied, just as angrily, possibly even louder. And Sam wasn't surprised to hear the sound of furiously clacking heels as the librarian rushed over to give the boys a final warning. They really needed to learn how to behave in public. Sam lifted up his book and ducked behind it. He didn't want to be associated with whatever the Frog brothers were doing over there, nor did he want to have to help pay for the damages. _Some_ vampire hunters they were turning out to be...

* * *

He felt incredible. Like he'd slept for twelve straight hours after days of power napping. Which was pretty spot on. He'd gone to sleep at around five or so, and god only knew what time it was now. Michael pressed up against the soft body tucked against him and kissed the top of her head. Luckily, it really was Star, and not David playing some stupid fucking game with him.

"You awake?" He whispered against her hair.

"Yeah." She croaked, keeping her eyes closed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Good. A little dizzy, but good..." She paused. "I don't want to feel good, though..."

Neither did he. They really didn't have anything to feel _good_ about. All of their running had gone to waste. They were trapped with the Lost Boys, irrevocably complete members of their 'pack' or 'family', 'gang', or whatever the hell they liked to call it. Admittedly, Michael really knew very little about them. They'd only spent a few days together, and the first couple he'd just thought they were a group of normal guys. Okay, yeah...a little weird. Maybe they even came off as if they were trying too hard to look tough, though obviously that was far from the case once he'd actually found out about their true natures. Ugh. _His_ nature, now, too. Whether he accepted that fact or not, Michael was still furious at David for taking advantage of him when he was blitzed out of his mind.

"Michael?" Star nuzzled against his neck, dragging him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"We can't hang up here forever. They're going to want us to come down. They're probably already awake, too..."

She was right. Michael cracked his eyes open to survey the rafters about them, trying his best not to move too much. He wasn't quite ready to let them know he and Star were awake. This was probably the only semblance of privacy they'd get anymore.

"Do you want to try to run again? When they aren't looking?"

Star snorted, "I don't think it'll work this time...I can...I can feel them."

He sighed, reluctant to admit she was right. He didn't even fully understand it yet, but...he just had this weird...sensation. Intuition maybe? It was like he...just _knew_ they were on the ground below, waiting for him and Star to join them. It was freaky. He didn't like it.

"Star! Michael Emerson! Come on down!" David shouted up at them, echoing the corny line he'd shouted the night he'd lured Michael to hang from the bridge. He wondered if they'd done the same to Star...and a not too unpleasant image of her floating through the mist with her skirt flirting about her like Alice in Wonderland appeared in his mind.

"Come on, moonlight's burning!" Marko called.

"Gotta hit the road, hot pants!" Paul joined in.

"I don't want to hang around here all night," Dwayne added somberly, but loud enough for his voice to carry up to the rafters.

"I guess we'd better go..." Star pulled away from Michael, slowly releasing her claws from her perch, twirling slightly in the air as she began to descend, arms reached up to grab for his and pull him with her. She'd had a bit more experience with flight than he had, having been a half vampire for a longer period of time, and left to her own devices when the Lost Boys had dragged him off for those initiation nights. The only times Michael had gotten to do so was when he fought David, and flew up to roost that morning. If it weren't for Star guiding him, he might have slipped and fallen to the ground, as unaccustomed as he was to this whole set-up. It was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Granted, he didn't fall on his ass, but he still stumbled a little bit when their feet finally reached the ground together.

"Sleep well?" David quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms when they'd finally managed to join the party.

"I'd have slept better in a bed," Michael lied, pulling Star to his side and keeping his arm safely wrapped around her waist.

Paul rolled his eyes, "you two need to get over yourselves. You're not cheeseburgers anymore."

"Spare us the analogy tonight, Paul," Dwayne shook his head.

"It's a good one!" Paul insisted.

"No, it's not. It would be a good one if cheeseburgers turned into things that ate cheeseburgers. None of us _are_ , nor have we ever _been_ cheeseburgers." Dwayne sighed.

"You can continue this on the road, girls, we gotta get going!" Marko crowed, trotting towards where he'd tucked his bike in the corner of the barn.

Paul mumbled under his breath as he hopped on his own, glaring at Dwayne. _"We were all cheeseburgers once, Dwayne."_ He whispered in Dwayne's mind stoically. As stoically as Paul was capable of, anyway.

 _"NO WE FUCKING WEREN'T!"_ Maybe Dwayne had the coolest head in the group, but sometimes even he could get pissed off when Paul tried hard enough.


	5. Chapter 5: The Diner

Author's notes: Having a lot of fun planning Sam's story-line. He and the Frogs are comedy gold. This chapter ended up a little longer than I thought it would. Go figure. If there's anything you'd like to see the boys do on their journey back home, feel free to throw out a suggestion or two and I'll see if I can slip it in. :)

* * *

" **BATMAN TO CLARK KENT. BATMAN TO CLARK KENT. COME IN, CLARK KENT. OVER.** " Edgar's voice shouted through the static of Sam's walkie talkie. He flinched, covering his face as a few curious passersby giggled at the teenager playing with a children's toy. It was a pink plastic set shaped like a unicorn with the antenna where the horn would be. It was _not_ the most masculine piece of 'spy' equipment they could have found. They were the cheapest ones at short notice, though. Still...Sam didn't really see why they were necessary. He was literally standing right across the walkway from the Frog brothers' comic shop. If he shouted as loud as Ed was over the walkie, they'd hear him.

"Ed. Lower your volume." Sam hissed into the mouth piece. He also resented his code name. Why did _they_ get to be the heroes, and he got the secret identity?

" **THERE IS NO ED. ONLY BATMAN. OVER.** "

" **AND RAMBO. BATMAN AND RAMBO. OVER.** " Alan chimed in.

" **USE YOUR OWN WALKIE, RAMBO. OVER.** "

" **I CAN'T. THE BATTERIES ARE DEAD, IDIOT. OVER.** "

" **THEN CHANGE THEM! OVER.** "

Sam lowered the volume on his walkie talkie and shoved it into his over-sized shirt pocket. They were getting nowhere with this. He was only standing out more, and from what he recalled of Ed's 'plan', lying low right now was the goal. He leaned up against teh wall of the surf board shop he had been 'stationed' at. Why was he even out here? How did they manage to talk him into this? He should've just gone ahead and said yes when that freaky girl from school asked him out for the tenth time since sophomore year. At least she was probably a safer option than the Frog brothers and their 'hunting tactics'.

He reached into his other pocket and pulled out the compact mirror he'd snuck out of his mom's makeup case. The plan was to basically try and be as discrete as possible, and see if anyone suspicious in the crowd tonight was missing a reflection. If they were, he'd tell the Frogs, keep an eye out for said target, and figure out a way to somehow lure whoever it was back to the comic shop for a thorough staking. It wasn't a perfect plan, but at least the battleground in question wasn't his house. He didn't think gramps would put up with that mess a second time around. Frankly, neither would mom. The whole experience had left her downing Valium on a practically nightly basis just to get some sleep.

Where did he even start? How would he actually get a shit-sucker's attention without being singled out as a meal, too? Sam had no intention of literally sticking his neck out quite that far tonight...but he also didn't want anyone to go through what Mike had been forced to deal with. Since apparently, even killing off a head vampire was no guarantee you wiped out the pack. Sam frowned. What if they _did_ manage to stake one? He'd electrocuted the big vamp and seen the fucker's body parts twitching all over the room in charred sections...and it still managed to come back from the dead! Along with the rest, come to think of it. Including the one who'd turned into soup and painted the kitchen and bathroom red. So...was there really even a guarantee that once he and the Frogs offed another vamp, it wouldn't come back to bite them in the ass later?

Sam shook his head, flipping open the compact mirror and got to work scanning the crowd. He turned towards the wall, kept an eye trained over his shoulder, picked a target, then looked back at the mirror to see if they were there. It looked stupid. And it also just so happened to make him look like a pansy touching up his foundation, but as Ed always said...'truth, justice...American pie...' and...whatever else he went on about. Sam tended to forget. All of Ed's speeches sort of blended together after awhile.

Why did he have to have a conscience? It was so freaking annoying. If he didn't care about the fact that people were being murdered in droves on a weekly basis, Sam would be perfectly happy just sitting at home right now flipping through his comic collection and sorting out film covers for them. But no. He had to go and be a _good guy_. This sucked. He didn't doubt Mike was probably having a better time right now cruising around Texas, picking up souvenirs in the afternoon, and gunning it down the freeway at night. Yeah...his brother was going to be just fine. He'd been freaking out for no reason after that last phone call. There was no way the shit-suckers could have caught up with them. Not after two years.

" **CLARK. CLARK KENT. COME IN, CLARK KENT. OVER.** " Ed really was yelling loud enough for Sam to hear his muffled shouts across the walkway now, and he just rolled his eyes, temporarily finding himself distracted from hunting out vampires in search of hunting out low-cut bras. He couldn't help it. He was a teenager with raging hormones. And this one chick...it was like...a string. A string right across the front! How did she even manage to leave the house like-...Sam frowned, rubbing at his eyes. A jacket had appeared out of nowhere in the mirror and settled itself onto her shoulders. Slowly, he turned his head around to catch an actual glimpse of her in person, and his heart hammered in his chest. She had a guy right by her. In sunglasses. A douchebag in sunglasses, to be precise.

Sam looked back at the mirror. No guy. Back at the girl. Guy. Mirror. No guy. Girl. Guy. Mirror. _Shit!_ He hadn't actually expected to find one this quick!

" **COME IN, CLARK KENT! CLARK KENT! OVER!** " Alan took his turn on the walkie talkie, and Sam lowered his mirror with a shaking hand. He could go back to the comic shop right now and pretend he didn't see anything. Just turn a blind eye to the vampire and the girl in the teeny weenie bikini. But... _shit_. _Shit!_

He sighed, pocketing the compact and spinning about to face the girl and the guy, who'd paused in front of a hot dog car to chat as a vendor prepared them a dog with the works. She was pretty. Too pretty to be with a monster like that. He just knew if he didn't do something tonight, she'd be on a missing persons poster tomorrow. But what could he do? The guy was tall. Good-looking. Built. He wouldn't be easy to just chase off with a stake. Sam would have to use the one thing in his arsenal he knew the Frogs didn't have. His brain.

"Hey!" Sam called out to them, waving and jogging toward the cart. "Hey! Haven't I seen you somewhere?" He asked the guy, grinning confidently. The man turned towards Sam and raised his eyebrows, confused.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked.

"Yeah! Those ads for gonorrhea prevention! Dude, you're like a legend around here!" He slugged the vampire's shoulder, and restrained himself from jumping back in a terrified shriek when the monster narrowed angry eyes at him and the girl suddenly seemed to have lost interest in both his jacket and his body. She peeled it off of her shoulders and tossed it at him with a disgusted scoff.

"Ugh! I can't believe I let you touch me! You're a pig!" She exclaimed, spinning on her heels and marching through a crowd on the boardwalk.

The vampire's hand lashed out to snatch at Sam's collar, and he dodged away with a yelp, dashing back towards the comic shop. Digging in his pockets, he managed to get his hands on the walkie talkie and turn it on full blast, " **BATMAN. RAMBO. I GOT A LIVE ONE! I REPEAT, I GOT A LIVE ONE!** " He paused. " **OVER!** " Unfortunately for the youngest Emerson, he wasn't paying attention to what was in front of him, and ended up smashing face-first into a board as a couple of surfers walked by, headed out for a midnight cruise on the waves. Sam saw stars, and stumbled to the ground.

" **CLARK KENT! CLARK KENT! WHERE DID YOU GO? WE CAN'T SEE YOU! CLARK KENT! OVER!** ".

"You're going to pay for that prank, you little fuck!" The vampire growled above him, kneeling down to get a good grip on Sam's shirt and pull him up until they were eye-to-eye. He'd lowered his sunglasses now, ray bans...the douchiest of douche glasses...and Sam was horrified to see nothing but blackness behind them. Eyes as black as a shark's.

* * *

The waitress jerked up from her notepad she'd been filling out a customer's order at the bar on, when the front door of Sally's All-Night Diner slammed open, and in walked a group of not too wholesome looking teenagers. A glance towards the windows outside revealed a few motorcycles lined up in the parking lot. Typical. The first one though the door was a boy with a spiky bleached mullet and a black duster...in this weather? She frowned, putting the notepad down and keeping her eyes trained on them to watch the rest file into the building. She was fifty-three, but she was tough. She'd raised eight kids on her own, and she wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty if she had to. After the boy with the mullet came a much taller one with long dark hair, a jacket, and no shirt beneath it...which was definitely not very sanitary. Then there was another one with long blonde hair that hadn't seen a decent cut in years. And another blonde with very curly hair draped down his back over an incredibly busy jacket. Then another boy with curly hair, shorter, darker. He didn't look quite as mean as the others, but he didn't look too nice either. His eyes were scanning the room as if he was about to leap on someone at the first chance he got. And finally, at the very tail end of the party, a girl with hair like Cher, and an outfit like Madonna. She had the same look about her as the boy in front of her, and her hand was clasped tightly in his as the group wondered over to a large booth at the corner of the diner. The waitress sighed. Those last two didn't look like they fit in too good. Such a shame to see good kids like that falling in with the wrong crowd.

No. She didn't like the look of them one bit. But she'd keep her mouth shut until they started to cause trouble. Because they didn't get too many customers this time of night, and she needed the extra tip money to help pay for Danny's braces.

"Will that be all, sweet thing? Just a slice of pie and a cup of coffee?" She directed her question back to the customer in front of her, who'd also been watching the group. There were about eight other customers in the building just as fascinated as them. So the waitress was more than a little relieved to note she wasn't being paranoid.

* * *

Dwayne and Paul sat on one side of the booth, and quickly managed to wrangle Star between them. Marko and David took their places on the other side, trapping Michael in a similar position. It was best to keep an eye on the two right now, just in case they weren't able to control themselves. The hunger could be uncontrollable for newbies if they weren't kept on a short leash.

"I don't see why you're doing this to us. We're not going to try and run again," Star complained softly as she crossed her arms in front of her. She wasn't looking down anymore. She'd decided she was going to make herself look David in the face if she had to. Riding down the road pressed against Dwayne's back this time, she'd realized 'submitting' like she always had done before was part of what got her and Michael into this whole mess in the first place. And she was tired of it.

"We're not afraid of you running off again, mamma," Paul remarked, tossing his head back and winking at the waitress at the bar with a playful grin.

"We just don't want to waste time with clean-up tonight." Dwayne added.

"What?" She leaned back in her seat, looking back and forth between them.

"You're not stupid, girl. You know what they mean," Marko snickered, biting on the thumb of his glove as he reached for a small triangular menu on the side of the table and let his eyes flick over it.

"We've got fucking self control." Michael ground out, shifting forward in his seat to distance himself a little from David pressed into his side. The bastard was running a hand up his thigh, and if it weren't for the fact that there were people watching...and admittedly he'd probably lose in a fight...Michael would bite his fucking fingers off for trying to pull that kind of shit. "Why are we even here?" He voiced what Star and him had both been thinking.

"Cards on the tables, kids. Davey's giving you a one-time chance tonight." Marko informed them, still examining the menu, fascinated by the shiny plastic it was tucked behind.

"If it's anything like last night, no thank you." Star replied, reaching forward to take Michael's hand in hers across the table. David slapped them apart, glaring between the couple.

"No more of that. Fuck around all you want, but you're not going to keep playing at this 'two against the world' act anymore. We're pack. You've got to learn to get support from all of us when you need it, understood?" David hissed, as the waitress slowly drew towards their table. He took their silence as an agreement, and immediately pulled back with a very pleasant smile on his face to greet their server.

"Well, howdy ma'am'," he drawled sarcastically, drumming a gloved hand on the tabletop in front of him.

The woman frowned, not seeming to like his tone too much, but she shrugged it away and hefted up a small notepad and pencil in her hand to take their order. Smacking her gum and leaning her head to the side, she plastered on her own little fake smile. "Well ain't it nice to meet a couple of folks like you out on the road tonight! Anything I can get ya?"

"Pancakes." Marko decided, setting his menu on the table. "I'd like pancakes. Lots of them."

"Coffee. We're all having coffee," David darted a glare back at Marko. "No pancakes."

 _"What?!"_ Marko mentally complained.

 _"I don't want to deal with your mouth smacking like a horse constantly while I'm trying to prove a point, asshole,"_ David replied coolly.

 _"I want waffles..."_ Paul pouted.

 _"I'm fine with coffee."_ Dwayne shrugged.

 _"Okay then. It's decided. Everyone gets coffee."_ David nodded his head at them, and the waitress looked at them with a very wary expression before nodding and closing her notepad.

"Well, darlings, coffee it is. No pancakes." With that, she spun on her heels and marched off, no doubt very happy to be halfway done with them for the night.

 _"Man, I love a juicy pair...just wanna dig my teeth right in. How about you, Marko?"_ Paul watched the waitress walk away, a dreamlike expression on his face.

 _"Blech. Spider veins. No thanks."_

Michael plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the table and slowly began to tear it into pieces, focusing on that rather than his irritation at having his hand slapped away from Star's like he was a baby. None of this would be happening right now if he hadn't forgotten to fill the fucking tank when the sun was up. "So what's the one-time chance?" He finally rasped, tired of waiting for whatever David had up his sleeve this time. Probably some diatribe about immortal darkness and partying. That sounded about right.

"Don't you wanna wait for the coffee?" David smirked, leaning his head against his hand as he propped his elbow up on the table.

"For fuck's sake, just tell us already!" Star snapped. And all eyes were on her. She blushed, putting a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to let that slip out. She never said things like that!

Paul and Marko burst out laughing, and Michael struggled to resist the urge to reach for her hand again. He wouldn't be able to keep his temper in check if he got another slap for his troubles.

"Well, if you're going to make a fuss about it," David chuckled, "like Marko said...cards on the table. Ask whatever questions you want tonight, and I might answer them. From here on out, we're on the same team. I know those little nagging worries are just eating you both up inside, aren't they? Wondering if this is an elaborate joke? Maybe we're just waiting until you get comfortable with your new lives, and then decide to tear your throats out anyway just to watch you scream?"

Actually, Michael hadn't been thinking that last part at all. But now that David said it, he unconsciously reached for his neck and scowled. And to the rest of the Lost Boys, it was apparently the funniest thing in the world. Their laughs drew even more disturbed attention from the other patrons at the diner. They didn't calm down until their waitress arrived back at the table with six cups of black coffee. She didn't waste any time in setting them down and rushing off.

"Relax, you're fine. He already told ya. We're pack!" Marko slapped Michael's back a little harder than he needed to, and the boy growled at him. He pulled away with his hands in front of his face in a mock look of fear. "Oh, please, don't hurt me, Mikey!"

"Why?" Star finally asked the first question.

"I'm sorry?" David leaned forward, cheek still pressed against his hand, "'why'? What do you mean?"

"Why was it so important to do this to us. And I don't mean 'because we're yours', or 'we can't get away once you decide you want us', or any of that. I want to know why you wanted to turn us in the first place. And why did you decide Michael was going to be my first meal, then change your mind?" This wasn't a question that had just arisen out of the blue. It had been one she'd turned over and over in her mind for two years, with no real answer. Admittedly, even Michael wondered what was so important about the two of them that David couldn't just find someone else instead. He was glad he hadn't ended up on the menu, granted, but he still didn't quite understand David's logic. Other than maybe the fact that Max wanted his mom. Since the fucker was dead, that should have effectively ended any interest in _him_ , at least, if not Star.

"Shiiiiit," Paul threw his head back against his seat, groaning. "Just keep it simple, Davey. We don't got all night to listen to this one," he complained.

David rolled his eyes and sat up straight, letting his hand fall to the table before he wrapped two fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and raised it to his lips, blowing on a waft of steam before taking a thoughtful sip. "Well. I _did_ want you to kill Michael when you first walked up to him on the boardwalk, Star. I hadn't even talked to Max yet, so I really had no clue he wanted to ride Mikey's mommy. Keep quiet, Michael, or I'll bite your tongue out and watch you scream." David didn't even pause to look at the boy at the remark, he just knew Michael would be upset about that last statement, even if it was true.

"Then I worried you might not know how to deal with getting rid of his body later. So I really only challenged him to the race to get the kid out near the bluff. Easy clean-up, huh? Didn't expect him to keep up with us as well as he did. That's when I changed my mind. Decided I wanted you both. But if you were wondering why I picked _you_ , Star, it's because you were good bait. Still are." David shrugged, unashamed. Not even a little. He was being honest, after all. She was a useful tool. She'd only really become a problem when she held off on feeding for so long, and then that whole issue with Michael's little brother dragging them both off in the middle of the day.

"So it's that simple, huh?" Michael sneered, crossing his arms angrily.

"What? Were you expecting something else?" David quirked an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on his lips. There was more. A lot more. But Mikey would figure it out sooner or later, the longer he was pack. Paul was right, after all. They didn't have all night. Michael and Star still had to feed, and would have to frequently over the coming year or so until their bodies adjusted to their new metabolisms. If they wanted to get back to Santa Carla within the next few days, they couldn't afford to waste too much time at all their pit stops chattering away about 'what ifs', 'whys' and 'could haves'.

"Hey, Star. I've been meaning to ask you something. Me and Davey are trying to settle an argument we were having. You fed first, right?" Marko turned on Star with a sneaky smile plastered on his face. David kicked him under the table.


	6. Chapter 6: Fish Breath

Author's notes: Crop circles, huh Falcon? Let me see what I can do...not this chapter. Maybe next. But I will do it.

* * *

In those eyes, Sam saw his death. Death by death breath, apparently, too, because the douche-bag was breathing right on his face and he could swear it was like an army of fish went to battle in the asshole's mouth before dying in glorious combat and rotting there for a week. It stank. Worse than he could ever have imagined. And it wasn't even the fear that was beginning to make him dizzy, it was the sheer terrifying _odor_.

"You have no idea who you just messed with," the vampire growled, though his fangs had not descended. They were surrounded by people, so it made sense.

Sam screwed up his face, taking a deep breath despite the horrible stench pervading the air around him, and did the only thing he could think of...he screamed.

" _ **RAPE! SOMEBODY HELP! THIS GUY IS TRYING TO RAPE ME! I NEED AN ADULT!**_ " Sam thrashed in the vampire's hold, and the grip on his shirt was immediately released as the creature stumbled back in shock and slight irritation, looking about him and ducking his head so he could push his sunglasses back up on the bridge of his nose. People were stopping to watch them now, and Sam began to re-adjust his shirt, covering his chest with a pained expression. Like Blanche Dubois, as if he'd been horribly and dramatically violated on the boardwalk in full view of everyone.

" _This isn't over,_ " the vampire growled, pointing a finger at him, before spinning about and stomping off through the crowd. Sam sighed, letting his head fall back on his shoulders as relief flooded him. He was safe. His neck was un-damaged. No harm done...and he even had an excuse to maybe avoid leaving the house at night to hang out with the Frogs for a couple of weeks. Or...maybe months. Years? Crap...what the hell had he just gotten himself into?!

"Sam!" Edgar shouted, rushing out of the comic ship and looking about, a string of garlic around his neck, and a crucifix in his hand. He waved it about like a gun, keeping an eye out for his friend. "Sam! Where are you?! Do you need backup?!" He continued, shoving past a group of girls who were giving him the strangest looks, before they leaned close together to giggle and point at him.

"I'm...I'm over here, Ed," Sam waved at the gruff Frog brother as he managed to get to his feet and dust off his clothes. Aw, man! The douchebag had ripped it! This was his favorite shirt!

"...Did you get bit?" Edgar asked warily, approaching Sam with the crucifix held aloft, trying to maintain as much distance as he could.

"No, Ed. I didn't." Sam shook his head, rolling his eyes.

"I need you to confirm. If you've been compromised, I can't just take your word for it. There's no telling what a bloodsucker can make a guy do once he gets his claws in someone. You could turn on your friends. Your family. And yeah...even your dog..."

Sam pulled his collar aside, turning his neck left and right. "See? No bites."

"...Okay," Edgar grunted, lowering his crucifix. "So, now that we've got a target...We're going to need to get you to point it out to us next time it shows up."

"What?! No! I'm getting the hell back home before it comes back!" Sam exclaimed. "I'm done, Ed. This is too much. You should've seen that thing's eyes! They were...they were crazy! Crazy eyes!" Sam waved his hands in front of his face, "crazy...evil...eyes!"

"...So what you're saying is...it had crazy eyes," Edgar nodded at Sam, crossing his arms while still angling his crucifix outwards to face anyone walking by, just in case one of them just so happened to be a vampire. If there was one nearby, it was very likely there had been more.

Sam nodded, idly scratching at his chest just under where his shirt had been torn. He pulled his fingers back and scowled at a few droplets of blood. That was way too close for comfort. Yeah. Definitely not going to play the hero again anytime soon.

* * *

Star didn't even listen to Marko's stupid question. Didn't hear it. She only heard and saw David. What sort of answer could she honestly have expected from someone like him, though? What did she want to hear? Of course she was a tool. Something he used like anything else. That was just what he did. But it wasn't enough. There had to be more. A lot more. And the fact that he wouldn't even explain the rest of it, explain all of the torture and the mind games, or why he couldn't have just gone out and picked some other girl who was just as good (if not better) at luring boys out to the beach alone so they could have easy meals...it was infuriating. He was lying. He was the _father_ of liars.

The monster inside her was conflicted. It wanted something to eat. It wanted to tear and bite and shred whatever it could get it's hands on. It wanted to paint her nails with blood. And it told her attacking her 'master' was a stupid idea. His wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as a human throat. But more then that...it told her to listen to him. Obey. Do what he wanted, and everything else would fall into place. Frankly, Star didn't much like that voice, and even more than her anger at David, her anger at the voice made her want to attack him even more. So, for once, Star was the first one to lose her temper while Michael got to stare in shock as she leaned forward and spat directly in David's face.

The first one to react was Michael, with an intake of breath as he prepared to leap over the table and protect her if David lost his cool. Looks were exchanged between the boys, however, and Marko settled a clawed hand on the back of the boy's neck, idly dragging his thumb across the skin in warning. Then, he leaned towards Michael's ear with a very pleasant smile, and whispered to him.

"Easy, there. Don't want to make a scene, huh? Unless you want to kill all these people?" He swept his free hand in a circle to indicate the uncomfortable, but pleasantly unaware patrons at the diner. And, while Michael had certainly lost a measure of the part of himself who actually cared about the lives of human beings, he still had enough of a conscience left over to remind him it was something...well, it was something he wouldn't have wanted to have happen a little less than twenty-four hours ago, when he was still one of them. He recalled the desperate pleas from Star not to forget their last hours in the daylight, and wondered if perhaps she also meant their humanity as well. So he forced himself to slump in his seat and let his breath out. If David did hurt Star, there was no chance the other people in the diner would live anyway. So maybe...maybe he'd wait until later to do anything to her. Or maybe he'd just let it go.

David very calmly reached towards the napkin dispenser on the table and yanked a few napkins out of it to wipe the spit from his cheek, smiling all the while with his eyes locked on Star's. And she certainly looked like she regretted what she'd done, if the look of fear in her eyes was anything to go by. But she _was_ looking at him still, and not down at her lap, like she used to. So, points to her for growing a backbone, but he definitely wasn't going to let this slide.

"I'd hoped we could all finish this conversation without any outbursts," David sighed, crumpling up the napkins and tossing them down to the table. "So I'm not going to do anything now. I imagine you've both still got a lot of questions. So. Ask away. When we're done, Star, I think I'll take you on your first hunt. _Alone_."

"No. You won't." Michael told him, eyes narrowed, and he hissed slightly when he felt Marko's claws dig in just a little deeper on his neck, drawing a line of blood to drip down the back of his shirt collar.

"It's okay, Michael. I'm a big girl." Star looked towards him, smiling faintly. They were both stuck, anyway. She didn't want _him_ to get hurt just because _she'd_ done something stupid. And besides, whatever David ultimately ended up doing...it felt good to spit at him. Despite the fact that she already had serious regrets about it.

"So, what else do you want to know, hm? I think we've got a little more time before we have to go hunting. Make it quick, though. Trust me, you don't want to know what it feels like when you wait too long to eat." David took another sip of coffee and relaxed in his seat, tapping the fingers of his free hand on the table to the rhythm of 'Running Bear' as it played on the radio in the back kitchen, just loud enough for them all to hear.

Michael scooped up the torn shreds of the napkin he'd been working on, and crumpled them together in a ball to drop into his drink. He never wanted to see another cup of coffee again. And Marko finally released his neck to reach over and snatch up a fresh napkin to hand to the brunette. Michael glared at him, but took it and dabbed at the scratch that had been left above his shirt collar. The skin had already healed, but it was a bit of a mess.

"Okay," Michael leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling, frowning as he tried to figure out how to phrase his question. Clearly, David was going to answer it however he wanted unless they were specific. Like a fucking genie with a bad sense of humor. "You wanted me because of a bike race. You wanted Star because she was good bait. I get it. But you spent two years chasing us. _Two years_. There's no way you assholes would have bothered, if there wasn't something more to it. Unless that's just how you get your rocks off."

Paul cackled, getting a strange look from the waitress as she came back to the table to top up David's coffee cup and completely refill Dwayne's. The quiet member of their group had downed the first one in less than three gulps. He nodded to her politely, and as she turned about, Paul couldn't help himself...he gave her a good goose.

The older woman's spine stiffened, and she spun about with her half-empty coffee pot, lips pressed firmly together, glaring down at him.

"Darlin', I don't want to have to tell you twice. Because if I have to, I will be breaking this here pot over your head the next time you try it. Keep your hands to yourself. I don't work thirteen hour shifts five days of the week just so a little boy with a pencil penis can try to put the move on me, you understand?" She demanded, putting a hand on her hip.

Paul was stunned into silence. Marko and Dwayne just shook their heads, laughing.

"Sorry about that. Paul, you're doubling your tip." David looked at Paul with a very patient smile, and the younger vampire scowled at him, before nodding up to the waitress.

"Sorry. Couldn't help myself." He held up his hands, having slung one arm over the back of the booth seat, just barely close enough to be around Star's shoulders.

"Yeah, well be sure you try a bit harder." She sniffed, marching off. If they were anywhere else, she might have been dinner, too. But...maybe not. Paul kinda liked her a little bit more now.

"You see, that's why ya gotta try riding an older model once in awhile, y'know what I mean?" He waggled his eyebrows.

"You're a pig." Star mumbled, taking a sip of her own coffee to calm her nerves. She was still pretty much focused on what David had planned for their 'solo hunt' soon. The more she thought about it, the more terrible the images in her mind she managed to conjure. She was a vampire now...not nearly so delicate as a human being anymore. So...the options he had were a lot more violent.

"In answer to your question, Michael," David turned back towards the boy, their little issue with the waitress forgotten, "I like a challenge." And that was all he was going to say, as he dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful of bills, giving Paul a look before the other vampire scoffed and pulled out his own money.

"This is bullshit," he complained loudly, slapping down a hefty tip. "You don't just walk around with an ass like that and expect me to keep my hands to myself. It's criminal. It's...it's insane."

"It's fat. And it's got cellulite. And it's probably wrinkled." Marko snorted.

"Character. It's got character," Dwayne supplied, laughing lightly. They were in a good mood. A better mood than they'd really been in since they left Santa Carla. Because finally... _finally_ , they were all going home.


	7. Chapter 7: Star's Lesson

Author's notes: Fun fact. Tom Savini was in Dusk Till Dawn AND The Tribe. In both films he was a vamp, and in both films he had his head ripped off...important information? No. But still pretty funny. The Edition of Frankenstein referred to in this chapter is the Nino Carbe illustrated one from the 1920s. Pretty awesome art.

* * *

"Thanks for the lift, Mr. Frog..." Sam nodded his head at Ed and Alan's dad. The textbook definition of a burnt-out hippie. He was nice enough, when you could get him to form a cohesive sentence. And being in the car while he drove was admittedly pretty uncomfortable. Not because he was reckless or anything, but because he drove...really...really slow. And Sam felt like he was turning around to look out the back window of the beat-up beatle every few minutes to make sure they weren't being followed by that fish-breath vampire from the boardwalk.

"No problem, little man..." Benjamin Frog replied, laughing at a joke nobody had said and only he could hear.

Alan was sitting in the front passenger seat beside his dad, occasionally leaning over to correct the wheel when the older man seemed to be dozing off, and he was fairly calm about it. This was probably how their dad always drove. Come to think of it, in two years...Sam wasn't sure if he ever saw their dad without a join in his hand. It was a wonder he never got pulled over by any cops, but then again...how many police officers really were in Santa Carla? It seemed like there were less and less these days. Not a comforting thought. Probably best to avoid over-analyzing that disturbing little detail too much. He had enough on his plate right now. If Sam had to deal with much more, he'd have a nervous breakdown.

"Listen, Sam," Edgar turned towards him in the back seat, knees tucked up near his chest, because neither Alan nor Benjamin Frog liked to give up their leg room in favor of passengers behind them. "Are you absolutely sure you want to go home tonight? Alone?"

Sam didn't really know _what_ he wanted to do. Whether he stayed another night with the Frogs or spent the night in his own bedroom, he'd still pretty much be going to sleep with a stake and cross against his chest tonight. But...at least if he stayed home, he had Nanook to help defend him. And frankly, Nanook was probably the best hunter in the whole group. He'd pushed the Twisted Sister lookalike into the holy water and garlic soup, he'd defended Sam when Mike almost lost control and attacked him during his bubble bath. Yeah. Nanook was his best defense.

"I'll call you guys if I need you, Ed." Sam paused. "We don't know what we're dealing with, yet. And...uh..." How should he phrase this without making the Frogs get all butt-hurt? They probably wouldn't appreciate his opinion that they were likely more of a liability than any real help if a vampire showed up...especially with all the fighting they'd been doing lately. Nearly breaking that machine at the library being one of the least of their issues they'd been having.

"Ed. Santa Carla needs you guys. I don't want to risk you getting hurt if this shit-sucker turns out to be even worse than the assholes chasing my brother and his girlfriend through Texas right now. I think I can take him on my own...it's probably better this way. You're this city's secret weapons. I'm just..." he paused. "I'm just a pawn in the grand scheme of American...pie. American pie...ideals...and...truth...and justice." Okay, maybe he needed to stop talking now. Sam was starting to confuse himself even, and a long lie was always way less believable than a short one.

Edgar stared at him long and hard, Alan shifting to turn back and nod at his brother before jerking a hand to the steering wheel and correct it before their dad drove them too far into the left lane.

Tears bloomed in Ed's eyes, and he placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "You're a good soldier, Clark Kent. We're rooting for you."

Sam blinked several times in surprise. Wow. That...that was way too easy...

* * *

Once they'd left the Diner and gotten out to the parking lot, Michael began to panic. The combination of the growing hunger and his worry for Star's safety as David led her away towards the Triumph was clawing at his stomach. She smiled reassuringly back at Michael as she wrapped her hands around David's torso, as if to say she was going to be okay...but he didn't want to leave things to chance. He still didn't trust David not to flip a switch and kill her, despite his diatribe about them being a 'pack'.

Time was running out. They'd be miles away soon, while he went hunting with the others in what Michael could only reasonably assume would be the opposite direction. When David pealed out of the parking lot, Michael considered running after them, but he'd hardly taken two steps before he felt a hand on the back of his jacket, jerking him in the direction of the other bikes.

"Don't even try it," Dwayne advised, poking him in the shoulder and shoving Michael towards his own bike.

"What is he going to do to her?" Michael demanded, glaring back and forth between the others, clenching his fists.

"Don't worry about it." Dwayne climbed onto his bike and nodded for the others to follow him. Michael lingered behind, on the verge of challenging them. Okay, so maybe David was stronger than him. _That didn't mean_ -...

Five minutes later, Michael was pressed up against Dwayne's back, growling curses at the older vampire under his breath, nursing his black eye and torn-up cheek as they flew down the road towards only god knew where. For all his trouble, not only had he gotten his ass kicked and embarrassed himself, but he'd worked up his appetite too. This sucked.

 _"Man, is this going to be a regular thing? That was fucking funny!"_ Paul cackled, throwing back his head and howling as the diner disappeared behind them. Marko and Dwayne joined in, while Michael continued to grumble. He wasn't quite in the mood to celebrate right now.

* * *

Lucy watched her youngest son walk in through the front door from the comfort of her wicker chair on the wraparound porch, nestled beside a lamp she'd brought out for evening book-reading when she couldn't sleep. She had a hardbound copy of Frankenstein splayed on her lap, the image of the monster gazing hatefully at any reader who might dare to see him, holding a lantern in front of the lifeless body of his creator. It was, perhaps, a little gruesome. But the illustrations were lovely.

"You're home? Sweety, I thought you were spending the whole weekend with your friends?" She closed the book and set it on a small table where her lamp was placed.

"Uh...yeah, I felt kinda sick. Didn't want them to catch anything," Sam replied, shrugging and looking down at his feet as he walked towards her. Nook was sleeping at her feet, but the husky slowly opened his eyes when his master approached, and he slowly yawned before standing up and crossing to Sam to greet him. The teenager knelt down to give his dog a few good rubs and scratches on his neck.

"Listen, I haven't heard from your brother today, but let me know if he calls when I'm at work tomorrow," Lucy pushed a small blanket from her lap and stood up to adjust her nightgown. "I think I'm just about ready to go to bed. How about you?" She smiled sweetly, reaching out to pull Sam into a tight hug once he'd left his husky's side.

"Yeah. That's a good idea. Is grandpa home?" Sam asked hopefully. Maybe the old man could give him a few pointers on keeping that weird shit-sucker from getting into the house. Not that he'd been much help when Mike needed him, though. But Sam doubted his own problem was bad enough to have to flee the state.

"He's at Mrs. Johnson's tonight. My goodness, you'd think he lived there, as often as he's away from the house." She laughed, shaking her head and pulling away from Sam. "Goodnight, sweety. Don't stay up too late," Lucy called behind her before disappearing.

Sam looked down at Nanook and took a deep breath, "you ready for bed, boy?"

The husky shook out his pelt and stretched his paws forward.

"I'll take that as a yes. C'mon. Let's go check if there are any lentils in the kitchen..." Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn't. What did he have to lose?

* * *

Star gazed up at the moon, silver light illuminating the bloodstains on her mouth and chin. She was kneeling beside hers and David's kill in a small clearing made at the center of a corn field, the only witness to their murder a silent scarecrow on his pole nearby. And he probably wasn't going to tell anyone what they'd done. If he did, nobody would listen. They'd be more freaked out by a scarecrow come to life than a story it told about vampires massacring an unwitting tramp who'd decided to camp in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Much like last night, she didn't feel any guilt for the kill. Only a deep satisfaction, and a warmth in the pit of her stomach. She didn't like to think about how easy it would be to get used to his lifestyle. And it would...god, as good as it felt. Looking back down at the corpse, she wiped as much blood as she could from her chin with the back of her palm and lapped it up. David hadn't done anything to her... _yet_ , but it was only a matter of time. He was just drawing this out to make her squirm. He was knelt across from her, digging through the homeless man's shredded sleeping bag.

"Feel good?" He asked, folding up the sleeping bag and tossing it aside. She didn't answer, only settled back on her heels and wrapped her hands about her knees, waiting for him to do whatever it was he had planned.

"Oh? Are we back to the silent game?" He drawled, standing up and stepping over the body so he could offer a clawed hand down to her. She stared at it for a few seconds, and reluctantly took it so he could pull her to her feet and into his arms. And then, very gently, David began to stroke a hand through her hair as he pressed her head to his shoulder, a deep and soothing purr emanating from his chest.

Should she struggle? No. It would only make things worse.

"No matter how good you might have been before the blood, or sweet, or innocent...and trust me, you were no innocent Star. _Everyone_ always gives in. _Everyone._ " He gloated quietly, referring to the corpse at their feet. "So why fight me? You're going to live forever. That's a very long time. Even if I did let you run away, how long would it be before you wanted to come back? How long would it be before you tire of being alone? You're not strong enough to sire your own pack, Star. Neither is Michael. You'd be much happier if you just gave in and stopped fighting us."

She wasn't used to this gentle side of David. Even when he'd been kind to her in the past, it was a false pleasantry. An act that always held a hint of viciousness behind it. Honestly, knowing what and who he was, this was actually scarier. Star began to struggle, to try and push him away, but he only held her tighter, digging his claws into her scalp.

"Still not giving in, huh?" He laughed, the sound a sharp blade cutting through his momentary kindness. " _I guess I'll just have to teach you something Max only had to teach me once_ ," he hissed. And then she felt it. Sharp fangs digging deep into her neck. She tried to cry out, but there was no sound. And she tried to press against him, push him away, which only helped his claws get a deeper purchase on her scalp and torso. This was worse than when she'd been nearly drained before their night at the bar, it was worse than the pain he'd forced on Star in her dream, it was worse than anything she ever felt before. Because it went beyond the sensation of tearing flesh. Icy fire was burning through her veins, and she could swear it was scorching a trail under her skin if that was even possible...leaving every single nerve ending in her body alight with agony.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she was beginning to feel a bone-deep exhaustion alongside the pain, like she was floating on a riverbed of razors. Then a feathery voice brushed against her thoughts, light and harsh at the same time. David's voice.

" _This is what it feels like to starve. This is what it feels like to die. I could kill you whenever I want, and it would be over in an instant. But for you, it would feel like so much more. I don't want to mate with you. I don't want to destroy you, either. I just want you to submit. All you have to do is accept us, and this pain will go away. You'll never grow old. You'll never die. So...choose now._ "

She wept silent tears, the pinkish-clear liquid staining her cheeks and mingling with the remains of her meal she'd yet to wipe off completely. "What...what about Michael?" Her voice cracked, harsh and raspy through the pain of having her throat torn into.

 _"Let me worry about Michael." _He replied, and Star gripped tightly at the back of David's coat, gasping.

"Okay...I will..."

David pulled away, licking her blood from his fangs and releasing his grip on her, only to tip her chin up so she could meet his eyes. "You'll what?"

"I'll...I'll submit." She sobbed, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. He brushed her hair back from her face and leaned forward to lick away the droplets of blood on her throat. It would scar. Somehow...she knew it would.

"Good girl. I knew you'd see it my way." He smirked. One more problem finally dealt with. David somehow suspected the other one would be a little bit more troublesome, though.


	8. Chapter 8: Making Michael Mad

Author's notes: Sam would make a terrible vampire, in my opinion. But I bet you can't guess what I'm about to do to him XD. Oh, and a quick warning about the boys' hunting location. It's not an appropriate place for children. The song playing in the club is 'O Fortuna'. Anyway, crop circles will be coming up finally in the next chapter, as I planned...I just kinda forgot last time. I'm also going to post another chapter up, probably a little later tonight, depending on whether I stay late at work.

* * *

Sam was having a lot of trouble sleeping. He'd lay down in bed, toss and turn for a few minutes, turn the light back on, check the window to make sure no one was outside, then go back to bed. It went on like this for a whole hour before he realized he was being a little silly. Nanook would notice if anyone was out there. And Sam wasn't going to be able to watch his back for very long if he spent every night like this, paranoid some fish-breath bloodsucker was going to break into his room for a midnight snack. But...just to be safe...he went to his closet and dragged out a few of the many (many) 'gifts' grandpa had given him over the last few years, and lined them up along his desk he'd propped up near his bedroom window. He picked only the ugliest and the biggest of them. A banjo-strumming possum with a hateful grimace, a cow's head with sunglasses smoking a camel cigarette, an owl ready to take flight, a...badger. Badgers were scary, right? That was the best he could come up with.

Of course now he had an entirely different reason to be terrified of going to bed...

"Ah...man..." Sam sighed, lying down and then sitting up, and then lying down again. In the shadows of his bedroom, it looked like some of the animals were moving and shifting...oh god, what was worse? Taxidermied monsters, or angry shit-suckers? He knew he was being silly. He always got like this when he was half-asleep...Sam sighed and did his best to turn away so he could ignore the animals propped up by his window, scratching at his chest underneath his pajama shirt. The cut he'd gotten from that vampire's claws earlier was beginning to itch. He'd have to get up and put some hydrogen peroxide on it, just in case...

"Nanook, keep an eye on them..." Sam pointed to the window guardians. His dog straightened up sleepily on the bed and gave a silent huff-woof, smacking his lips and lowering his head again.

Padding out of his bedroom towards the bathroom, Sam jumped. There was a shuffling sound downstairs. His eyes widened, and he dashed to the bathroom to grab any kind of weapon he could find. Toothbrushes. Tooth floss...make-shift cross. That would have to do. Fashioning his minty first line of defense, he crept down the hallway and slowly began to climb down the steps, breath catching in his throat at every little sound. A creak. The scurrying of a mouse under the floorboards. Wind rustling at the screen door. A screaming kettle. Wait...a screaming kettle?

Sam pressed the cross to his chest and eased himself the last few steps down to the bottom floor. Did mom get up to make some tea? Did grandpa come home early? He ducked his head and walked across the darkened house, nearly tripping over a duvet in the living room, but catching himself before he could fall and crash into the floor.

Once he'd reached the edge of the doorway to the kitchen, Sam pressed himself up against the wall so he wouldn't be seen...and slowly peeked around the edge to find out who was inside. He slapped a hand over his mouth to keep from squealing. Fishy Mcdouchebag was there. Pouring himself a cup of tea...humming and clicking his teeth against his fangs. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck..._

"Why don't you come on in? I got an extra cup," the vampire called out calmly. He had a very dry, dull voice when he wasn't angry. It was almost even more terrifying.

"Took me awhile to find this place tonight. Had to follow your scent in my car. Gotta tell you, that wasn't easy. Please, relax. Not gonna kill you. Just got a proposal to make."

* * *

It was Marko's turn to pick the hunting grounds tonight, and he had just the place. Since Star wasn't with them, this would be one of their few early chances to really break Michael in on just how awesome a real party could be when you got creative. And, in fact, he'd marked this place in his memory when they'd been pursuing the pair earlier that week, because he just knew it was going to come in handy.

Just on the outskirts of a seedy little town, not too terribly distant from the diner, the boys pulled up and parked their bikes along the back of the building just in case someone driving by later was asked to identify any suspicious vehicles they'd seen outside. It didn't hurt to be too cautious about that kinda thing, if you wanted to avoid needless hassle. Paul had gotten them into more than one scrape with some cops over the last two years when he decided to go all-out on a binge.

 _"Alriiiiiight, my kinda place!"_ Paul grinned, walking alongside the building with an arm slung around Marko's shoulder. " _I ever tell you how much I love you?_ " He gave the smaller vampire a big wet smooch on the cheek, and Marko just laughed and shoved him away.

"What are we doing here?" Michael asked warily, staring up at the blinking neon sign above the entrance that read 'Came-Alot'. It was a medieval-themed strip club. Images of hairy men dancing on a round table flooded his mind, and he gagged. Dwayne just slapped his back and chuckled at him.

"Relax. Marko checked this place out already. _Tuesdays_ are gay days."

"Not that it matters much, anymore. Get over yourself, Mikey. Man or woman, it doesn't matter. We just do what feels good," Paul informed him, kicking the door open and strutting inside. Marko bit the thumb of his glove and winked back at Michael, before following Paul.

Michael made as if to walk away before Dwanye gripped the back of his jacket and shoved him ahead. "Are we going to make this a thing, tonight?" Dwayne asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Because I can kick your ass again, if you really want me to."

"I'm not hungry," Michael protested, lying through his teeth. He was ravenous. But how could he eat when he was so worried about Star? What's more, how could he eat, when he'd promised himself he'd try his best _not_ to let these new instincts control him? Even if...oh god, even if it was the most incredible thing he'd ever tasted. Even better than sex, if he was being honest with himself.

 _"So, who's cutting the phone lines?"_ Paul stretched his arms above his head and tucked his hands behind his neck, grinning cheerfully. A young woman in a plastic chainmail bikini sauntered up to them with a somewhat less than enthusiastic smile, and led the boys to a spot 'ringside'. Surprise, surprise...the stage really did look like a round table. And it didn't look like there were too many people there tonight.

 _"Already got it covered,"_ Marko dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a very small pair of pliers, before trotting off to the bar.

Michael slumped down in a stool between Paul and Dwayne, eyes darting around the room nervously. He didn't know how long he was going to be able to hold out, after his scuffle at the diner with Dwayne, and the fact that another hour behind them had begun to stoke the gnawing feeling in his stomach even more. He didn't want to think about how incredible it felt to tear into a soft, warm throat, and drink his fill. But when it popped into his mind, it was all he could focus on.

 _"Hope we get in a few good shows before he loses it,"_ Paul remarked in the other boys' minds, digging into his pockets and pulling out a few crumpled bills. He scowled. If David hadn't made him pay that tip earlier, he'd be able to afford a lapdance. Now all he'd probably get was a wink and a shimmy before the chick on the stage wondered off to the next hand flush with cash.

It really was no surprise that the place was so empty. The girls were hot. But...the theme was pretty limited. And the Excalibur soundtrack playing over the sound system didn't really do much to get a guy excited for a show. It brought to mind the idea that the girl on the stage wearing nothing but a cone-shaped had and wrapping herself with the veil that hung down from it was going to snap and go Exorcist on the guys watching at any minute.

Michael leaned against the stage and tried to make himself focus on the girl. If only his mom could see him now. What would she think? Would she be more disgusted that he was at the world's tackiest strip club, or would she be more disgusted that the only thing he could think of as the girl in front of him slowly peeled her veil away to give him a good peak at her botched boob job was where exactly would be the best place to bite her without getting a mouthful of silicone?

"Whoa. It's like they're cross-eyed..." Paul cackled, waving one of his last fives above his head. The dancer skipped over to him and pulled her veil back up, giving him a peek beneath the bottom portion so he could fold the money beneath it. How did she even keep it there? He squinted, and caught the very faint trace of a string along her torso that matched the shade of the veil. Paul was almost disappointed, snapping the string over the bill and leaning back.

Soon Marko was back with the boys, grinning madly. No one had seen him break the lock on the front door, nor had they even noticed him snap the handle off. That was what made places like this so awesome. If you weren't waving your cash or your trash, nobody paid any attention to you.

 _"Did you take the count?"_ Dwayne turned towards Marko, nodding his head back to indicate the others in the club.

 _"Yeah. We got about seven on the floor, counting the bartender and the waitress. Three in the back getting changed. That's ten in all. I figure Paulie takes care of the ones in the back, we handle them out here, easy."_ Marko shrugged.

Michael watched the two suspiciously. They had some fairly simple body language, but it looked as if they were communicating something between each other. Especially with the sneaky little smiles Paul kept giving him whenever he looked back at the other vampire for some kind of idea of exactly what was going on.

When Dwayne and Marko were finished picking out their meals, they turned back towards Michael, and it didn't take him long to realize all eyes were focused on him now. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He frowned.

"No reason." Marko shrugged. "How are you feeling, by the way? All good?"

"...I'm fine." Michael replied, pushing his stool back a little just so he could get some distance from the boys. They seemed to be leaning closer to him now.

"So, how did it feel watching Star go to town on that dude back at the bar? Huh? Bet you she'd have done a lot more with him if we let her, y'know what I mean?" Paul waggled his eyebrows.

"Shut up!" Michael snarled, clenching his fists and straightening up in his seat.

"Oh yeah. Bet she gets reeeeeal dirty when she's in the right mood. Hey, that's why she stuck with us so long before you showed up." Marko added.

"Shut your fucking mouths!" Michael closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. He had an idea now about what they were trying to do. They were trying to make him lose his temper. Well, he wasn't going to. He was his own man, and he had enough self-control not to-

"David fucked you. You loved it." Dwayne. Short. Simple. To the point. And when Michael finally saw red, so did everyone else.


	9. Chapter 9: Little Lives?

He eyed the 'cross' in Sam's hands, and then looked back up into the boy's eyes, lowering his sunglasses.

"You don't want to use that on me. Put it down. You'll feel better." And Sam, unfortunately, forgot one of the cardinal rules about making eye contact with vampires. So he did as he was told. The shit-sucker slowly smiled, pouring water into an extra cup and walking over to the kitchen table to set their glasses of steeping tea down.

"I don't really drink a lot of this stuff anymore, but it's good when you want to relax and talk to a normal person. I don't talk to a lot of normal people these days." He continued chatting, conversational. "Go ahead, sit down. Take a load off. I'm not gonna bite." He pulled his lips back into a somewhat threatening grimace. And Sam was helpless to do anything but nod and walk over to the table to pull out a chair and sit down.

"You got any bread around here?"

Sam shook his head. "Only crackers. Mom has to go grocery shopping tomorrow," he replied flatly, drawn deeper into the vampire's trance. The voice was no longer flat and distasteful to him now. It was relaxing. Soothing. He pretty much wanted to say and do anything the shit-sucker asked him.

"Crackers'll work. Where are they?"

Sam pointed slowly towards the top of the fridge, where a basket was propped over the freezer with various odds and ends in it, as well as one half-empty plastic bag of saltines.

"Cool. Cool." The vampire walked over to the fridge and pulled down the crackers, then turned towards the kitchen cupboards and began to search through them, until he finally found a small plate. Quickly he set it on the counter and tore open the plastic bag, spilling crumbs everywhere. But he wasn't too bothered by it, apparently, because he began to hum cheerfully as he laid out about five saltines and spread them on the plate. Turning back to Sam, he tipped his head back. "You hungry?"

Sam shook his head.

"Don't worry. You will be. I got this idea from my meal last week, actually. Funny story. Had a guy knock on my door in the middle of the night selling bibles. Asked him his favorite story, and he went on about wine and bread...yadda yadda. Wasn't listening too much, but I got the gist of it." As he spoke, the vampire drew a claw across his wrist, and dabbed it gently over the cut that formed, gathering a droplet at a time and letting them fall individually onto each cracker on the plate.

"I was never really religious. But I guess you are, huh?" He snatched up the plate and crossed back to the kitchen table, dropping it with a loud clatter in front of Sam. The boy just shook his head, confused. He went to church back in Phoenix, maybe once a month, when his grandma on his dad's side drug him and Mike there, but other than that...he was a pretty poor Christian when he wasn't fighting off shit-suckers.

"Eat." The vampire told him softly, though there was a firm command in his tone as he sat down and scooped up his cup of tea. Sam eyed the crackers warily, almost breaking through the trance he was under, but when he looked back up at the vampire again, he...unfortunately also made eye contact another time. And without a second thought, he shoveled the crackers into his mouth. The first one tasted awful. So did the second. None of them tasted good at all, really. It was like sardines on crackers, that was how awful the blood tasted.

"It actually takes at least a mouthful of blood to turn a guy. Or you gotta be drained till you're just about dead, but not really there. I guess you already know what I am, since you came in here...'prepared', huh? You're lucky. When I got bit a couple of years ago at a beach bonfire, I had no clue what the hell was happening to me. I was just...left for dead. Had no master to guide me. Nothing. Only instinct. I ate... _a lot_ of sharks the first couple of days, before I finally found myself a real meal. Most of the stuff I've learned was through trial and error. Didn't even know eating that hot dog vendor was gonna make me fry when the sun came up. Found some shade just in time. Dug my way through the sand like a crab. Really wild shit. And I think all the shark blood changed me. Changed the way my body took to the turn." The vampire continued to chat, taking a sip of tea and grimacing. "Blech. Chamomile. I _hate_ chamomile." He placed the cup aside and watched Sam, fascinated.

"So, I guess you want to know what my proposal is, don't you? After I just told you my life story for no reason?"

Sam slowly nodded, wiping the cracker crumbs from his lips.

"I don't want to turn you. That's why I only gave you a little taste. Already got myself a nice little nest built up, and if I make any more family too soon...this city's gonna run dry. But I need servants. I figured this trick out after I fucked with that salesman last week...too bad one of the 'kids' got to him before I told them the dude was off-limits. Anyway, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to let you live. What's more, I'm going to let you have little lives. Bugs. Squirrels. All that kinda shit, until you earn the right to become one of us. Think 'Renfield', and you got yourself a pretty good idea about what I'm getting at. You're also under my protection. In exchange, you work for me. Do the things I can't do in the day, errands...all that shit. How does that sound? Go on, you can talk."

"I don't want to." Sam replied curtly.

"Ah, well, that's too bad. I guess I'll just eat you."

"Y-you know what, now that I really think about it, it actually sounds pretty awesome. Yeah...I'll be your Renfield." Sam squeaked, pushing back his chair and pulling his knees up to his chest in an effort to protect himself from the monster's wrath.

The vampire stood up and pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. "Good. I'll be seeing ya around, then. Have fun tonight. Oh! And by the way...the name's Shane. Shane Powers." He grinned, walking out of the kitchen and out the door. Sam rushed towards the window to catch sight of the shit-sucker douchebag taking off in his car, and wondered...why didn't it just fly? He'd have to mention this to Ed and Alan later...and god only knew what grandpa was going to tell him about the fish-blood crackers he'd just shoved down his throat. Speaking of which, he snatched up his toothbrush cross and headed towards the bathroom. He could still taste that shit in his mouth, and it was only getting worse. Sure, Mike gets himself involved with assholes who apparently have blood that tastes like wine, and what does he have to deal with? Rotten chum?!

* * *

Too angry and hungry now to think straight, the first thing Michael did when his nature took over was dive for the nearest source of fresh blood...which just so happened to be a waitress taking the order of a bitter drunk nearby, who wasn't quite desperate enough to be ring-side, but also not quite happy enough with his personal life to go home to his wife.

The woman gave a shriek, hefting up her drink tray and slamming it across the young vampire's face, denting the metal and shoving him back just enough that he was forced to lean an arm against the table-top and cover the side of his bleeding face with his free hand. He glared up at her, licking the trail of blood that had formed when he'd bitten into his upper lip, and he lashed out to grip her by the hair and yank her forward. There was no room to think right now. He was starving. And the first splash of blood pumping from her jugular as it hit his tongue drove away any lingering sense that he might want to summon up some kind of resistance, or a semblance of care for what he was doing. It just tasted too fucking good.

Shrieks emanated in the club as the patrons and workers were very suddenly forced to realize they had more than an unruly group of horny young men on their hands to deal with. Especially as Paul flew up to the stage and grabbed the veiled girl in his arms, spinning her about until he tore her pink tulle away to enjoy the sight of her utter terror and exposure in one swift glance before he dug his fangs deep into her neck, savoring the taste of fear and adrenaline, laced with just a hint of cocaine. He had to make it a quick meal, however, so he pulled away just as she began to lose consciousness to dash through the curtains that led backstage. If the remaining girls getting changed caught on that they might want to make a break for it, he didn't want to have to deal with chasing them out the back door.

The dazed drunk sitting at the table directly in front of Michael was no match for Marko when he was jerked to his feet and tossed against a wall. The curly-haired vampire gave a shout of laughter when he heard the sound of cracking bones before the man crumpled into a ball, "two points!" He shook his hair, fangs drawn and eyes alight with golden joy.

That left four more to deal with. The bartender, and three men huddled in a corner hastily trying to button their pants under their coats, so they could make a break for it without tripping with their clothes around their knees. Marko skipped over to the bar and hopped onto the counter, kicking over a pair of empty glasses as he did so, and kneeling down to wink at the bartender, who squeaked up at him in fear, shaking her head wildly, "please. Take whatever you want. Don't hurt me!" She begged, pressing her back up against the mirrored wall and glass shelves behind her. Anyone looking directly at it would have seen nothing but a splash of red surrounding her as Marko's claws slashed open her neck in one quick swing.

Two of the men at the table made a break for it, while one of them hid under his table and tried to make himself look as small as possible. Dwayne easily caught the runners and knocked their skulls against each other hard enough to nearly kill them, tossing their bodies to the ground and giving Marko a warning look, " _you eat one of them. You already wasted two kills, and I'm going to be hungry when I'm done over here,_ " he jerked his finger towards the man screeching like a terrified pig under his table.

 _"But-"_ Marko began to protest.

 _"If you want more, go bother Paul."_ Dwayne growled, diving under the table and grabbing the final conscious and living victim in the room. It was a very swift and clean kill. Dwayne didn't play with his food as much as the others. He found the eating part much more enjoyable.

Once Michael had managed to get every last drop he could from his victim, he slowly pulled away from her, letting the woman's body fall to the ground in a clatter of chain-mail plastic and flesh colliding against wood. He stumbled back, slipping to the ground in a slight daze, and slowly licked the blood from around his lips. Again, he really didn't feel anything for the dead woman near his feet. Nothing besides a vague disappointment that there hadn't been more blood rushing through her veins to drink. More life to take. He was frustrated that he couldn't drum up some measure of sympathy. Something. Anything... _human_.

Michael threw his head back and sighed, only to find himself looking directly up at a pair of golden eyes staring right down at him.

"Fun, huh?" Paul laughed, kneeling down and slapping Michael on the shoulders. "Maybe next time you won't be such a bitch about it, Mikey?"

Michael scowled and shoved Paul's hands from his shoulders, flicking the older vampire off and turning back to stare at the dead woman in front of him. "I want more." He complained. And Marko snickered from the bar, as he held his victim's slit wrist over a blood-soaked beer mug, squeezing out every drop he could.

* * *

"Are we always going to burn them like this?" Star asked, watching the shredded cotton bits of sleeping bag catch fire over the homeless victim's corpse, while David threw broken ears of corn and sticks over the top of it to help the flame grow.

"Nah. Back home we'll just drop them in the water, usually. Cops don't really care as much there. They know they're better off just ignoring it," he shrugged. "That's what's so great about Santa Carla, Star. They're used to us there." He held out a hand for her to take, and she did without hesitation. After David's lesson, her will to fight him had melted away. And she realized, maybe...it might be best to just let things happen. Because if she did, then maybe Michael would too, and he wouldn't have to experience the same kind of agony she'd gone through tonight. She could only hope.

As they took flight, David scanned through the maze for his Triumph. Soon, the fire would catch to the crops, and he didn't want to have to deal with that kind of mess. He really should have parked in a better spot, he mused. And maybe it was a little of the blood high messing with his head, but as he tried to pick out the spot of sparkling metal amid green and yellow, he could swear there was a strange circular shape carved into the corn field. A flash caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he jerked to see where it had come from, but there was nothing but summer wind and night sky about them.

Vaguely, in the distance, Star heard the sound of a screaming cow.

* * *

Author's notes: -Drumrolls- And the big reveal on poor Sam. God, I love torturing the good guys sometimes. It's just so fun! I would also like to reiterate I thought the vampires in the sequel were _stupid_ , and I am not in any way a fan of Shane. This is the actual backstory from the comics, by the way. Not even joking. And...yeah, there's the crop circle element I promised, with just a bit of a twist XD


	10. Chapter 10: Gravedigging

Author's notes: Will probably be transitioning them back to SC pretty soon. Next chapter will be the last road chapter, I'm thinking, depending on how it turns out.

* * *

David was the first to arrive back in the diner parking lot with Star pressed close to his back. She hadn't said much, still too shaken to confront him about the bite. And what could she honestly say? Nothing. But she was certainly far more willing to listen to that voice at the back of her mind that had warned her not to fight him in the first place. It bothered her. All of this. Had she really spent two whole years running away, flinching at her shadow around every corner, driving all hours of the night and day...just so she could give up?

"Don't think too much, Star. You'll hurt yourself." David remarked dryly as he leaned against the side of his bike and tucked a cigarette between his lips. He'd been silently watching the screws turn in her head ever since they arrived to wait on the rest of the boys. She wasn't completely broken, yet. Still had her misgivings. He wasn't sure whether he wanted tom completely crush them or not. It would make for a very boring pack mate if she didn't at least have a little spark. Which brought him back to the early days, before Michael. When it had just been him, the boys, and a pretty girl on the beach with nothing on her mind but where her next meal was coming from.

She'd been ideal bait. And Max had brought a kid back to the cave for the boys to look after. Laddie. A whim. A trinket to make the old fuck feel like he was a real father. Didn't stop him from tossing the kid in the cave, making his boys look after him. After all, he was far too busy running his little store and living in his little house, searching for a little wife to round out his perfect little life. The Lost Boys may have been blood-thirsty killers, but Max was outright insane if he thought all of those things would somehow satisfy his cravings for a human life he'd lost a very long time ago.

So, Star really was good bait. He'd been telling her the truth. But she was also a good babysitter. Looked after Laddie. Made sure the kid didn't go off and make his first sloppy kill. Because none of them really wanted to deal with a bloodthirsty midget on top of Max's ridiculous demands he always seemed to make, like constantly sending them out to search the city for that perfect little wife who'd somehow remain innocent even when Max got his hands on her. As if that was even possible, being what they were.

In a way, they were lucky Max found Lucy on his own. Lucky Michael's little brother didn't seem too hot on daddy dearest. And Michael... _well_ , David privately chuckled to himself. That was certainly a funny coincidence. He wasn't really sure whether it was for better or worse, though, given how he and the boys had ended up. Mangled, melted, electrocuted...yeah, that part wasn't too fun. In a way, this mad pursuit after the pair had been part of their vengeance for all the trouble. Keeping Star and Michael constantly on edge, terrified, only ever one step ahead before they boys easily caught up to them over the course of the following nights when they were both forced to rest.

If anyone else had impaled David on those deer horns, he would have come back and tortured them until they begged for death's sweet release. Or even it the boy had somehow managed to do it without the monster inside on full display, almost ecstatic with his first taste of real violence...were David in a less uncomfortable position, it would have been delicious.

He tossed his head back and let a waft of smoke float from the corner of his lips, while Star quietly watched him, and wondered. Wondered what he was going to do next, while they waited for the others to re-join them for the long drive ahead.

"You can relax. I'm not going to _do_ anything." David sighed, looking back down at Star with a slight smirk. "Want a hit?" He held out his laced cigarette, and she wordlessly took it with a shaking hand. Then she pressed it to her lips, and turned away, still too nervous to say much. Nervous that he'd finish what he started.

But he wouldn't. Didn't have any plans of killing one of his first two fledglings, turned by the blood running through his own veins, and not Max's. After all, he owed her quite a lot. She'd brought him Michael. And for that, Star deserved a second chance, just as much as Michael. Though...not quite in the same way.

"They must be having a pretty good time," David remarked, keeping his eyes pealed on the road. No sign of the boys yet.

Star licked her lips as she passed the cigarette back to David and pressed herself away from the bike so she could take a few steps away, arms tucked into her pockets. "David..." She whispered, slowly tipping her head up to look at him.

"Hm?"

"Earlier...when you bit me...you...you were talking in my head."

He nodded, his smile slowly growing as he waited for her to continue.

"So...does that mean the others can, too? Can they read minds?"

David chuckled and took another hit, shaking his head, "yeah. Sooner or later, you'll figure it out too." He paused. "But don't you _dare_ fucking tell him," he warned with a hiss. And Star wasn't really in any position to argue. It didn't make her feel any better, though, when realization finally dawned on her that there really was no possible way they would have been able to run forever. The chase...for the Lost Boys...had only been a game.

* * *

When the others had finally returned, there was little time to stop to chat. Michael didn't quite understand why they'd even stopped, if he wasn't going to be allowed to get a word in edge-wise with Star, at least to make sure she was still in one piece. And he was certainly more than a little uncomfortable when David decided they'd be riding together again. Yet another reason Michael desperately wished they'd been able to bring the car. He didn't like this weird arrangement, or the funny looks and touches David kept giving him, as if he'd be even remotely interested in a repeat of the night before. He wasn't. Not unless the only participants were him and Star, with David safely halfway across the country and far away from them.

Michael wondered how long he'd be able to take this shit before he lost it. Not very, if his little slip at the strip club had been any indicator. It had only taken a couple of words from Dwayne to make him snap. Probably even less from David. He had to come up with some kind of plan to get him and Star away again. Maybe if he played nice long enough, they'd give him enough space to steal a car or something. But then...they wouldn't have any reason not to go back and slaughter his family. He gave a huff of frustration against David's shoulder. Maybe he'd just find a sharp stick and try to kill David when his back was turned...it was as good a plan as any. As they rode, he had plenty of time to come up with all manner of colorful ideas. Ranging from a simple murderous prank like propping up a bucket of holy water over a door when one of the others was going to walk into a room, to something far more suicidal and glorious, like paying someone to drive through whatever building they'd all be sleeping in the next morning to ensure they got good even tans before expiring permanently.

For David and the boys, it was pretty entertaining to listen in on. Certainly made their ride a little funner, and who would have thought the brunette could be so creative when it came to slaughtering his own kind? Oh, he was a killer alright. He just had to get it through his head that they weren't his enemies anymore, and they'd have a _lot_ of fun together.

 _"So, do you want to wait until he tries something?"_ Dwayne pulled up alongside David, while Paul and Marko focused on scanning the countryside alongside them, trying to pick out the best place to sleep for the morning, which was fast approaching. They'd carved out a decent amount of road behind them, though, and the closer they got to home, the more excited they were becoming. Worst case scenario, they'd have to stop about thirty minutes before sun-down and dig themselves a few graves. It wasn't ideal. But it was certainly do-able. And Paul definitely thought it would be good for a laugh to see Star and Michael freak out about going underground for the first time. It would almost be worth the mud in his ear canals.

 _"He'll never learn if we don't,"_ David shrugged.

 _"You really want to take that risk?"_ Dwayne preferred to be on the safe side, not really relishing the idea of being split into several pieces and toasted again. It was enough to only have an experience like that once in his lifetime.

 _"Star won't fight us. She knows her place now. If Michael really does decide to follow through with some stupid plan to try and take me out, it's five against one. There's no risk. Not really."_

 _"You wanna bet?"_ Marko joined in, grinning. " _If I win, you admit I won the last one, too..."_

 _"We don't have to wait until we're back at the hotel for me to kick your ass, Marko,"_ David growled.

* * *

They didn't find any proper shelter for the night. Taking a more direct road than the one they'd traveled through in the first place, they were met with an awful lot of grassy hillocks and empty fields. Parking their bikes under a copse of dying trees, the boys immediately got to work stripping off their coats.

"What are you doing?" Michael asked with a slight frown, pulling Star into his arms and resting his chin on her shoulder the first opportunity he got. She was like his comfort blanket, the one thing in the world he wanted to cling to right now to keep himself level-headed. Grounded.

"Getting ready for bed. You're going to want to start pretty soon too. Don't want to bury yourself in your clothes. Gonna be a mess when you wake up." Marko tossed over his shoulder, yanking off one of his shoes and tossing it aside as he hopped on his other leg to get to work on the remaining one.

"Like hell I'm going to get naked in front of _you_ again," Michael scowled at David, who just rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Have it your way. Don't come crying to me when you've got worms stuck in your panties later," he replied, shrugging out of his duster and laying it over his bike. "You're still going to want to start digging. We gotta make the hole pretty big if we're all going to fit down there." He nodded towards a small clearing in the grass where the soil looked slightly easier to work with.

Star pulled away from a reluctant Michael and tugged at his jacket. He stared at her in disbelief, "Star-"

She pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. "Don't fight it, Michael. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can go to sleep."

He stared at her for a moment, silent, reaching forward to press a hand to her cheek. "Why are you okay with this?! What did he do to you?" He leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"Nothing. He didn't do anything," she lied as she managed to push his jacket from his shoulders.


	11. Chapter 11: From the Grave

Author's notes: You know something? Sharks are cool. But they're one of the two major wild animals I wouldn't want to end up on the menu for. The other one, is of course, lions. And yes, this chapter may be short...but I could not resist the cliffhanger. Next one will be longer.

* * *

Sam groaned against the side of the toilet, pressing his forehead up against the porcelain so he could leech up as much of the cold as possible. He was burning up. He didn't doubt the fishy crackers had something to do with it. And Nanook hadn't been any help when he'd tried to go back to bed, the way the husky kept whining and crawling over him to lick his face, as if he could somehow take away Sam's pain. He appreciated the thought, but when the dog had tried following him into the bathroom that morning, Sam had been forced to close the door and put his foot down. Otherwise he'd probably end up with a headache, a sore stomach, and a husky covered in vomit.

"God, kill me now," he pouted as he pushed away from the toilet and crawled over to the bathtub so he could draw himself a cold bath. Outside he heard shuffling, and footsteps echoing down the hallway.

"Sam?" Grandpa Emerson called out from the other side of the door. He must've gotten home early.

"Huh?" Sam called out, too tired and sore to say much more than that.

"You alright in there, boy?"

"I'm...I'm fine. Bit sick. Orange juice." Sam stammered, reaching under the bathtub faucet to check the temperature. It felt pretty warm...he turned the tap full-blast on cold and pulled back to lay his forehead over the side of the tub and let out a deep breath. He really hoped this wasn't going to be a permanent feeling, now that he'd agreed to be that douchebag's ass-monkey in favor of his midnight snack.

"We use full sentences in this house. You want orange juice, you say 'I want orange juice, please and thank you.'" The old man called back to Sam, and god help him if the boy didn't want to push the door open right then so he could throw a shoe at his own grandpa's head.

"You're right. Sorry. I want orange juice, please and thank you. I feel like shit and I think I'm dying." Sam called back moodily.

"Watch that attitude, boy. I'll get you some orange juice, but you're not too young to be turned over my knee." Grandpa Emerson grumbled, and Sam heard his footsteps receding down the hallway. If this was how the old man acted when Sam snapped at him, he wasn't looking forward to telling him about the vampire that got in the house last night.

* * *

"It's a sad day for marine life enthusiasts in Santa Carla this morning. Twelve great whites line the beach this morning, butchered, their remains left for the seagulls. Some of our listeners may recall the classic film 'Jaws', and recall just how dangerous these majestic creatures can be. Which leads our thriving local shark biology community to wonder what kind of person or, more likely, people could have been responsible for this..."

Grandpa Emerson leaned forward over his work table and flipped off his radio, turning back to face his grandson with a stiff-lipped frown. "Well, Sam, can't say I'm too happy with you right now. After what we went through, your brother not excluded...what made you think it was a good idea to provoke one of those fangy bastards?"

Sam shrugged, looking down at Nanook guiltily as the husky pressed up against his leg and whined. "I dunno, grandpa. Didn't want that girl to get hurt or nothin'..."

"And you think he couldn't go back and eat her _when she went home later_? All you did was get yourself in trouble, you damned fool. And I don't even know how to help you, if what you said was true. If that thing is running a nest, like he told you, there's no way you're getting outta this unless you nail every last one of them, or convince him to let you go. And trust me, a nest is mighty big. Much bigger than that little pack we had in here last summer, tearing up the damned place like they owned it." He paused. "And look at your brother. Ain't _no way_ he's convincing them to let him go, so not much chance for you doing the same, Sam. Jesus, and I thought you was the smart one." The old man shook his head, reaching for his tv guide.

Sam knelt down to hug his dog, pressing his face into Nanook's coat and biting his bottom lip to keep from crying. He was having a lot of funny mood swings this morning, and it was almost freakier than the 'food poisoning'.

"Don't be a drama queen, Sam. You better go outside and get yourself some sun today. Might help keep that blood in ya from making you act too funny. Call your friends or something. Or just...do some gardening. Lawn could use a bit of a trim. Just get out of the house. We'll figure out what to do for you once I've cooled down a bit." Grandpa Emerson grunted, flipping through his TV guide.

"Grandpa..." Sam pulled away from Nanook, frowning.

"What is it now?"

"...Should I...should I still go to school tomorrow?" Maybe there'd be one good thing out of this whole nightmare, at least.

"Don't see why not." Grandpa Emerson shrugged. "Be nice to have _one_ of my grandsons graduate."

So Sam was left with two options. He could call the Frogs, tell them what had happened, brainstorm some kind of solution...or he could put off talking to them until tomorrow at school, and pretend nothing had happened...decorate the house with garlic strings, put crosses on all of the windows...

* * *

Darkness. Itching. Grit and tiny clawed legs brushing against his face. The more he became aware of himself as night broke, the more Michael began to panic as he realized he couldn't move. What was happening? Where was he? Why couldn't he remember? He couldn't think, couldn't even begin to remember how he'd ended up like this. Maybe they'd finally been caught by David and the boys, gutted, buried in an unmarked grave. And Michael's punishment by whatever unseen force watched them from above was to remain ever aware of himself rotting for the rest of eternity, until he was nothing but dirt, and mold, and the shattered remains of a worm's dinner. The more he dwelt on his fears, the less he was able to properly think and dredge up a memory of how he'd even ended up like this. He only summoned up even more gruesome and terrible theories of his future, images of the endless hellish days and nights he would be doomed to spend in this terrible empty darkness, his only company an army of bugs.

Oh god, he wanted to scream. Why couldn't he scream?! Michael gritted his teeth and opened his mouth, feeling dirt shift around him and begin to fall past his lips...when suddenly there was a hand breaking through the crust of his grave, gripped firmly around his neck, and pulling him up to break through the surface of the dark soil into the blessed night air. Then there were hands running through his hair, soothing him, lips pressed up against his own, an arm tenderly caressing the small of his back as they crouched on the ground together. He leaned into this stranger, clinging desperately for life, while a soothing purr emanated from his savior's chest. Michael didn't want to let go to whoever it was, because there was no way in hell he'd ever want to go back to that horrible grave below.

Slowly, very slowly, he came back to himself. Those fears in that earthy womb grew distant and silly, as he was able to recollect the previous night when he and the others had stripped down and dug themselves a hole to sleep in to take shelter from the sun. With that memory came another sort of awareness. An angry one. Because it certainly wasn't Star he was kissing and being caressed by right now. It wasn't Star's soft curves molded into his own right now, or her hair tickling his shoulders. No, even without seeing, he had a very good idea who had 'saved' him, and he certainly wasn't happy about it. Michael's eyes snapped open, and without even thinking, he reeled back and sent his fist sailing right into David's face.


	12. Chapter 12: Claimed

Author's notes: Gets mildly naughty in this chapter. Typical David shenanigans.

* * *

Edgar and Alan crowded around the phone receiver, waiting for Sam to pick up. They hadn't heard from him since he was dropped off the night before, and Ed was confident the sometimes third member of their group was done for. Vamp bait. Dead as a door-nail. When Lucy Emerson picked up on the other line, however, she didn't sound nearly as upset as a woman who'd just lost her youngest son should be.

"Hello?"

"Hello Ms. Emerson. Is Sam home?"

"Oh, hi Edgar. Yes, he's just in his room. I'll go get him. Is everything okay at home?"

"Uh...yeah..." Edgar grunted noncommittally.

"Well, that's nice."

There was the sound of a click as Lucy placed the phone on the counter. Edgar and Alan both waited with rapt attention for Sam to pick up. After all, he could very well be dead still. It was possible he'd put a 'do not disturb' sign on his door when the sucker came for him that night, to spare his mother the sight of his body shredded to pieces all over his fresh sheets.

"Hello?" Sam asked, having picked up the receiver. Edgar let his breath out. He hadn't even known he'd been holding it.

"Good. You're alive. Do you have anything to report to us? Did it show up last night?" Edgar growled.

"Uh...well, sort of."

"What does that mean? 'Sort of?' Sam, we need you to tell us everything that happened last night, every little detail. The blood. The guts. All of it." Alan nodded silently as Edgar spoke, though Sam couldn't see him.

"Ed...what do you know about Renfield?"

"...Renfield?" Edgar frowned, confused. "Why?"

"Look, just answer the question, Ed," Sam snapped back at him.

"Not much. Pretty cut and dry character. Most movies don't use him unless they've got a lot of scenes where it's just Dracula running around with no one to talk to. Crazy dude who ate bugs, fed them to bigger animals...I think he wanted to eat cats, too, but couldn't get his hand on any. I dunno. I read the abridged version. Hardly any pictures. Really boring. Seriously, nothing but diary entries and letters. Who wants to read crap like that? Why do you wanna know about Renfield, though? You have a reading assignment due tomorrow?" Edgar leaned back on his bed, rubbing at his neck and passing the phone over to Alan so he could get a break.

Sam was quiet for a very long time, thinking. All day he'd pretty much felt like crap, and the minute the sun went down he felt fine. But he didn't try eating any bugs yet, so...was that a good sign?

"Sam. Did the bloodsucker come to your house last night? Did you dream about it? What happened?!" Alan asked, gripping the receiver tightly. "Did it bite you?"

Sam snorted, "I'll talk to you guys later. I don't think I should talk about this right now." He looked up towards the kitchen window, where he caught a glimpse of a flash of blonde hair fly by. Nanook padded into the room whining. Shit. It was here. He didn't catch what Alan said when he hung up the phone, though it sounded like he was yelling.

"C'mon Nanook. Let's go see if that asshole likes dog bites," Sam patted his knee for his husky to follow him as he trailed out of the kitchen. So what if he'd had some of that shitty fish blood last night? That didn't mean anything. He wasn't like Mike, he wasn't just going to try and sleep it off or bang a hippie to clear his mind. He was smart. And there was a bottle of holy water under the bathroom sink, so whatever the douche-bag thought he was going to get Sam to do tonight, he had another thing coming.

* * *

The moment had been good. Sacred, almost. It was like he'd finally gotten through to his more stubborn fledgling, and a real connection had been forged. A bond...until Michael ruined it. His anger, that fiery temper he wielded so well, destroyed it. Made David's simple gestures of comfort end in violence. He had tried to ease his fledgling's fears, give him a sense of protection in the light of a waking nightmare. And for all his troubles, what did he get? David snarled, grabbing Michael by his hair, throwing him to the ground. In a flash of fang and claws, they were scuffling together.

The others didn't need any warning. Dwayne pulled Star from the earth in one swift movement, while Paul gathered her clothes, and they took to the air with Marko so David could have his peace with Michael, for better or worse. This had to be done. If they returned to Santa Carla, and Michael still didn't know his place, there would be little chance of warding off any other packs who might have taken roost in the city during their absence. This was a battle of dominance. A fight Michael couldn't win, but he was sure as hell going to try.

Star shrieked, desperately clawing at the air as they flew away together, crying out to David with a guttural yell to give Michael another chance, go easy on him. But that simply wasn't going to happen. Tonight, David would ensure Michael learned who was in charge, hell or high water.

Michael hissed up at him, growing even more incensed that he just couldn't seem to get the upper hand. And David laughed at his fledgling who had the gall to challenge him. To throw his affection and gestures of comfort back into his face. Well fine. They could do this the hard way. David loved the hard way.

"This could have been so easy for you, Michael. Then you had to go and piss me off _._ " David taunted, gripping Michael's neck in one clawed hand as he reeled back with his other fist to give him a taste of his own medicine. But Michael didn't lay idly and wait for the blow. No, that wasn't like him at all. He was a fighter. One of the things David loved and hated about him at the same time. When David's fist came flying, Michael pulled one leg swiftly forward to knee him in the crotch. David recoiled with a hiss, and Michael was on top of him, digging his claws into his master's shoulders, drawing streams of dark red blood. The scent drove them both mad, even if Michael wouldn't freely admit it.

What began as a fight soon devolved into something else, when David shoved Michael's hands away, pinning them above his head and straddling him forcefully after he'd once more managed to wrestle the boy to his back. As Michael's master and maker, there was no doubt about who would win this battle. David grinned, fangs drawn and golden eyes alight with excitement. He relished this moment, basked in it. He was almost glad now that Michael had decided to lose his temper. It gave him an excuse to do this a little earlier than he'd planned...

 _"You're mine,"_ David hissed, digging his fangs deep into Michael's neck with a feral growl. It was far different from what he'd done with Star. There was a distinct pleasure he forced on him, a sense that a dynamic between them was being irreversibly altered, excruciating and wonderful all at the same time. Michael tried to continue to fight back, to buck him off and dislodge the fangs buried in his skin, but David's dominance was too much to bear, and soon he found himself submitting without even realizing it as David drank deeply, all the while grinding roughly against him.

Michael gasped, trying to fight off the wave of euphoria. Pain. Pleasure. But it was no good, because soon David had his way, and Michael was lost in it. Distantly, he tried to ground himself on the thought of lying with Star by the pond, and the gentle feel of her pressed up against him as they basked in the dying light of their final day. He desperately fought to keep the image in his mind, but the more David drank and caressed him, the harder it was to think straight, or even feign the indignance and rage he'd woken up with.

" _David!_ " He screamed, when the blonde finally took him, and Michael might have even been able to summon up his temper again if he could see the smug grin on the vampire's face when he drew away from Michael's neck and slowly licked the blood from his lips. But Michael was looking up at the stars. And at the moment, he certainly wasn't thinking of one anymore.

* * *

Star paced restlessly, plucking at her jacket buttons and thinking that any second they should be going back to David and Michael. She hated to think how awful the bite must be, if it was taking this long. How could David be so cruel? She refused to believe he hadn't been trying to provoke Michael. Not that she'd really seen what happened. During the punch, she'd still been stirring and waking, so she could only fill in the details of what happened with her own imagination.

"Chill out, mamma, he's fine." Paul called out, digging a small flask out of his jacket and unscrewing the top so he could take a swig. It was a souvenir from the bar owner back in Leddings. "Betcha they're having a good time, too, huh?" He turned towards Marko as the curly-haired vampire skipped up to him and snatched the flask from his hand.

Paul frowned, reaching for it, when Marko cackled and tossed the flask to Dwayne, who also took his own hefty gulp before screwing the lid back on.

"C'mon!" Paul protested, striding towards Dwayne with one hand held out. "Give it back, you dick!"

"Gotta beg for it, Paulie. Get on your knees and tell me how bad you want it," Dwayne taunted, holding the flask up just out of the other vampire's reach.

Paul growled, and took a running dive at Dwayne, just as the flask flew back into Marko's hands, and the shorter vampire ran off cackling.

"Assholes! Give it back!" Paul shouted, as he tumbled to the ground with Dwayne, and they began to viciously snap at each other, rolling about in the grass. Just as Paul was about to pull away so he could catch Marko, Dwayne grabbed him by the back of the head and slammed him against the ground.

"Eat it," Dwayne taunted above him.

Paul struggled in the other vampire's grip, kicking at the ground and clawing at the hand holding fast to his hair, "geroff!" He growled, face muffled by grass and dirt. Marko slung an arm around Star and held the flask out to her while they watched. She wordlessly took it from him and drained the remaining contents. Glancing down at her hands, she scratched idly at the screw-top lid. "You really think he's okay?"

Marko rolled his eyes, pulling away from her and dashing towards Dwayne and Paul, who were rolling around on the ground now and hissing at each other. He gave a loud howl, drawing both of their attention just as he dive-bombed the pair, tossing his coat behind him so it wouldn't get torn up in the scuffle. Despite herself, Star couldn't help but laugh as she watched, clapping her hands together when it seemed like Dwayne was managing to get the upper hand, only for Marko and Paul to team up and dig their fangs right into his arms.

* * *

Sam stood outside of his bedroom door with the bottle of holy water tucked behind his back, Nanook standing at his side and scratching at the floor. "You ready, boy?" he knelt down, scratching behind the husky's ears. Grandpa and mom were home, so even if his first line of defense didn't work, they'd be able to rush in to his defense. Well, maybe not mom. Definitely grandpa, though...he hoped.

"Okay...let's go..." Sam took a deep breath and eased his bedroom door open, stepping inside and glancing around. The light was off, just like he'd left it. Okay, that was a good sign. Maybe his eyes were just playing tricks on him in the kitchen. He ran his hand along the side of the wall until he managed to find his light switch, and quickly flipped it up. The room was empty, except for his window guardians...ever vigilant for any kind of intruders who might show up. Sam laughed, shaking his head. Like the bloodsucker would even know where his bedroom was anyway. He was being silly.

He turned around to pull Nanook into the room when there was a flash of hair and claws. Sam squeaked when the water bottle was torn from his grasp and thrown right at the wall, spilling everywhere. Nanook growled and snapped, only to find himself gripped by the pelt and bodily thrown from the room before the door was slammed behind him. The dog yowled, scratching wildly at the wood even as the vampire rounded on Sam, sunglasses down, eyes black and just as fucking creepy as Sam remembered.

"Hey. Long time no see. Let's take a walk on the beach, huh?" Shane pressed a hand on Sam's shoulders, and the boy would have shrugged him away...but a sudden sense of calm overcame him, and before he knew what he was doing, he bowed his head with an anxious squeak.

"You look hungry, kid. C'mon. We'll grab some goldfish on the way. Wouldja like that?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak, and it was like someone else was talking for him, "really?! All for me, _master_?!" He slapped his hands over his mouth, shocked. Where the hell did that come from?!

Shane laughed, looking towards the window where the taxidermied animals perched at the ready. He rolled his eyes. "I can't fly, stupid. Don't think they would've done you much good," he shook his head with a laugh. "And call your doggie off, wouldja? I don't wanna get my clothes dirty. This shirt is designer."


	13. Chapter 13: Blindfolded

Author's notes: So. I...finally watched the first Subspecies. Silly movie. But fun. Cheesy effects...interesting make-up...still a better love story than Twilight. Anyway, short chapter today, but longer one tomorrow. They'll finally be back home. :)

* * *

Sam scratched at the side of his head, trying to dig a finger under the tightly-drawn blindfold only to feel a hand smack his away.

"None of that, little man. Can't let you see where this place is until you're good and ready. Don't want you leading others there, do we? Nah, course we don't."

"So...we're not just going for a walk on the beach, then?" Sam asked dryly. He hadn't felt any compulsions to kiss this douchebag's ass since he brought up the goldfish earlier, so he was thankfully in full control of what he was saying. Sam felt the car shift and swerve, as the terrain beneath the wheels of the Studebaker seemed to become rougher. What kind of shit-sucker drove a Studebaker? Seriously? If anything, when Sam had been practically forced out of the house, somehow managing to both avoid his mother and grandpa, seeing the beat-up old car 'Shane' seemed to be so overtly proud of made Sam a little bit less terrified.

Granted, he still wanted to scream and head for the hills the first opportunity he could, but maybe not quite as fast as he might have if the bloodsucker didn't even have a car. For a split second, he almost respected the dick-heads who chased his brother out of town. But then, of course, he remembered what it was like dealing with them...and comparing flying bloodsuckers who were apparently just about unkill-able to a...guy with rotten fish-blood and Sam couldn't even begin to imagine what other kind of differences, Shane paled in comparison.

Just when Sam felt like he'd had just about enough Aerosmith screeching in his ears from the radio, he took a deep breath, and decided he might as well try to make conversation. What did he have to lose, at this point? His dignity? Yeah, that went out the window the second he tried to make a cross out of toothbrushes and then ate a bunch of shit-blood crackers. "Soooo..."

The radio suddenly died down. "So? What? Got a few questions you wanna ask me?" The vampire sounded amused, though it was hard to tell. He really had a very flat voice. Hardly any inflection whatsoever.

"Well...like...you can't fly. And I seen some vampires before, around here. They could fly. What else is different about you? Can you handle daylight and all that? Running water? Stakes and stuff?"

There was a long pause. "You want me to tell you all of my weaknesses? Are you kidding me?"

"...It's not like I can do anything to you, can I?" Sam frowned, "Wait... _can I_?"

"Don't think so. Didn't get to hold onto my last slave long enough to find out. But don't even try, if you know what's good for you. You're lucky I decided to use you as my second guinea pig. Don't worry, though. It'll be good. I'll make sure you enjoy being a slave."

"...Slave? Really?"

"What would you prefer? I think it sums up your job pretty well. I command. You follow orders. I give you little lives. You do my bitch-work. Everyone wins." He laughed. "Well, maybe not the goldfish."

Sam sighed. He was going to figure out this guy's powers, one way or another. And he was going to find out how to kill him, even if it meant dragging Ed and Alan in on it, at the risk of them screwing shit up for him even more. He hadn't gotten another word out of grandpa yet, either, so who knew? Maybe he'd only have to deal with this shit-sucker and his gross snacks for one night.

"Oh, speaking of which..." Shane mumbled...and Sam felt a gold plastic bag fall into his lap, swishing slightly. With trembling hands, he grasped at it and felt for the seal around the top, fumbling as he tried to open it. The weird thing was, he could almost feel several tiny little hearts pumping beneath the plastic.

"Go on. Eat up. My treat..."

"Thanks!" Sam exclaimed, tearing the bag open until water splashed around his lap as he blindly reached for several tiny fish flapping at his legs. He quickly shoved them into his mouth and swallowed without even chewing. He was severely disgusted with himself. It didn't even taste good. What the fuck was wrong with him?!

"Easy there. Don't stain the seats, kid. I just washed them."

Sam didn't doubt what kind of stains the shit-sucker probably had to deal with, and decided not to ask.

"Hey, what's your name anyway? Clark?" Shane asked him, laughing. "Heard your friends yelling it back on the boardwalk."

Sam scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about. My name's Sam." Probably best to pretend he didn't even know the Frogs, though whether it was for their safety or his own, he wasn't quite sure. He just knew he'd have a better chance of getting through this by making sure his 'master' knew as little about Sam's personal life as possible. Thank god he didn't know about the vampire hunting escapade they'd had two years ago, or he'd probably be the bloodsucker's old leftovers by now.

* * *

Michael silently glared daggers at David, tearing at a piece of bluegrass until the seeds and greens were nothing but leafy confetti in his hands. Then he'd spread out his palm and watch them sprinkle to the ground before kneeling down and tearing up another stalk. It hadn't taken long after that little fuck session for his senses to come back to him, and he was even more enraged and disgusted than he'd been the last time. At least Star had been _somewhat_ involved, for the final part of it, anyway.

"Mother fucker..." Michael mumbled under his breath, tearing up another stalk and continuing to glare at David, who very happily pulled a cigarette out of a soft pack in his coat pocket and slid it between his lips.

David shrugged, not even a little apologetic. Not that he would be. Soul-less, ass-raping... _dick-face_...Michael was really struggling not to lose his temper all over again, and it was dangling by a very thin thread. But the idea of a repeat of...whatever that had been...was enough to at least help him maintain some semblance of control, to the misfortune of the weeds about his feet. Unfortunately for them, their time had come. And if he lingered there too much longer, the whole field would be nothing but grass clippings. If David thought even for a second that Michael was going to put up with another round of...well...whatever the fuck they'd just done together...he had another thing coming. If it ever even came close to that again, the first thing he'd do was rip the bastard's dick off. Michael was confident he could at least manage that much.

The wind about them began to pick up, brushing against Michael's hair. Thankfully he'd be spared the embarrassment of being naked when the others arrived. He'd been allowed that much time to get dressed, and frankly, it had been the immediate first order of business once he'd regained his senses enough to realize he and David had most definitely gotten past second base. Tilting his head up to the sky, Michael watched the others descend towards them at a disturbingly fast pace. Stumbling out of their path, Michael pressed himself up against one of the trees, not relishing the idea of a dog-pile from some of the very people he wanted to see least in the world right now. Except Star...and she floated to the earth at a much slower rate, touching her feet to the ground long after the rest of them had decided to make David their target.

The girl rushed towards Michael, and he was only too happy to pull her into his arms and kiss a trail down her hair and to her shoulder, pushing her face back and staring into her eyes to reassure her (and himself) that everything was okay. He could only assume David had pulled the same thing on her the night before when they'd gone on their own hunting trip together, and if anything, it made Michael want to protect her even more. He wrapped his arms about her waist and glanced over Star's shoulder to watch David dislodge himself from the graceless heap of Paul, Marko, and Dwayne, who were only too happy to claw at his ankles and try to drag him back down to the ground.

"Get the fuck off of me!" David shouted, throwing Paul to the side and climbing to his knees to slash his claws across Marko's face.

"Dude! _Not cool!_ " Marko shrieked, grabbing at his face and rubbing at the torn flesh tenderly. It was already beginning to mend, but clearly it still had to hurt like a son of a bitch.

Michael and Star remained silent, watching the fight with rapt attention, until finally Michael managed to tear his eyes away for just a moment to glance down at Star's neck while he pressed her head to the side. He saw a tiny scar there...two pinpricks covered by fading silver flesh. It seemed to confirm his suspicions, but he wouldn't bring it up. But he was officially twice as upset for her sake as his own. David was such a prick.

"Who do you think's going to win?" Michael whispered against Star's neck. She shrugged noncommittally.

"I think Paul's got a switchblade in his hand...so maybe-...oh. No...wait...Dwayne just threw him into the trees..." Star bit her lip. "David. Definitely David."

Neither of them realized they were placing bets, just like the others would if they were in the same situation. For better or worse, they'd get used to being pack. Eventually. They didn't have much choice, after all. And at least Michael could take comfort in the fact that his family was probably safe for now. As far as he could tell.


	14. Chapter 14: Home at Last

Author's notes: Might get a chapter up tomorrow, otherwise there probably won't be another one till Monday/Tuesday. Leaving town for the weekend to get my tattoo touched up.

* * *

Water licked at Sam's ankles, drenching the cuffs of his jeans. Walking blind was not an easy feat. His feet kept catching on the ground, scuffing against tiny rocks and some other bits of unidentified debris; kinda hard to tell when he couldn't see anything. But sharp nails pressing into his shoulders just enough to cause pain, but not draw blood, guided him from behind. Whenever he'd pause to shake some of the water from his sneakers, or brush his frizzed-out hair back from all the ocean mist assaulting it, the shit-sucker would give him a warning growl.

"Keep goin'. Almost there."

At one point, Sam tripped, and Shane didn't catch him when he went crashing to the ground. He ended up scraping his palms pretty badly on wet concrete.

"Careful," the vampire laughed, reaching down to yank Sam to his feet by the back of his shirt collar. He wanted to complain that the fabric would get stretched out if he kept doing that, but somehow Sam doubted the douchebag cared.

There was the sound of metal shrieking, and he was suddenly shoved through some kind of doorway. He could only tell, because his feet nearly caught on the frame. Then the blindfold was yanked down and Shane slapped Sam on the back, leaning into his ear to whisper, "I'd give you the grand tour downstairs, but the kids there might lose it when they smell your blood. No control, you see. Careful. I might, too," he chuckled.

Sam blanched and stepped away, shoving his hands into his pockets in an effort to keep the scraped from bleeding out to broadcast to the world just how tasty he was. And to keep himself occupied, perhaps get some kind of clue on their location so he could tell grandpa or even the Frogs later, Sam surveyed the building they were in. It was pretty big. The walls were made of chipped white metal paneling, and it looked like the whole space was sort of circular. Near the door, which Shane slammed behind them before Sam could catch a glimpse of the surroundings outside, was a rusted metal ladder that lead up to a massive circular railing near the roof. The walls and ceiling above were covered in heavy black cloth. What could it be covering, he wondered? Windows, maybe...and...a skylight? Maybe it was too much to hope for...

The strangest thing about this whole place had to be the floor, though. It was completely covered in thick layers of sand. Judging by how deep his feet sank into it, getting his socks not only wet now...but also disgustingly gritty...Sam had to assume it was a good couple of feet deep. Then he vaguely recalled how Shane mentioned hiding from the sun after he'd made his first human kill, and he wondered if that was how his whole nest slept...buried in sand...it gave him claustrophobia just thinking about it. Sam really hoped he'd never have to find out what that was like first-hand. Frankly, as much as he really hated the idea of being a butt-monkey, at least he'd still get to sleep in a bed. He hoped.

"What the hell is this place?" Sam ventured to ask, mouth agape.

"Home sweet home. Come on. I got some chores for you to do. Wanna get them done before the rest of the family shows up."

Sam gulped. He had a feeling waking up for school tomorrow was going to be a real bitch.

* * *

One night left. One more night, and they'd be back in Santa Carla. Star really wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, she was...glad? Was that the right word? Relieved? They weren't running anymore, and the thing they feared most in the world had come to pass. Honestly, the more she fed, the more time she spent out in the open with them...the less it seemed to really matter. That in itself was pretty damn scary. How could she let herself slip away so quickly? If she'd known only a few days ago that she'd be happily dining on human beings, practically enjoying herself with the Lost Boys, she'd have taken her own life.

Pressed up against Paul's back on his bike, Star kept her eyes trained on Michael and David just ahead. While she'd mostly been forced to play musical seats on this journey, David seemed oddly intent on keeping Michael constantly close at hand. Maybe Michael was planning for them to make a break for it? She hoped not. Even if maybe the future with the 'pack' seemed less terrible with the passing hours and nights, seeing David make good on his threats by killing Michael would be just too much for her to handle.

And the fight they'd had earlier must have been a terrible one, if the ragged scars she'd glimpsed on Michael's neck as they mounted the boys' bikes were anything to judge by. They looked far deeper and more painful than her own.

* * *

" _You catchin' this shit? Freaking soap actress on my bike right now_ ," Paul laughed, leaning back just enough to force Star to re-adjust her grip on his stomach just a little tighter.

" _You're the one who wanted to keep her around for the freaky hippy tail, Paulie_ ," Marko replied with a snicker.

 _"Personally, I think she's a dead fish,"_ Dwayne shrugged.

Paul snorted, _"Mikey sure seems to like her."_

 _"Yeah, but even David can make him scream. Low. Standards."_ Marko glanced towards David with a dark grin. And for a moment, their leader was silent.

 _"Marko. You cry."_

This elicited a chuckle from Paul and Dwayne, though Marko didn't seem to appreciate the remark quite as much.

" _I still won the bet. So there._ "

Paul cackled, " _nice come-back, baby-face._ "

"What are you laughing about?" Michael asked, looking to his left and right, confused. He'd been mostly silent throughout the ride, fuming. But the curiosity was killing him. He was beginning to suspect he was missing something, and it was only one more issue to add to his laundry list of annoyances. One of the first things he wanted to do when he finally got back to Santa Carla, was figure out a way to get his old bike without being caught and interrogated by grandpa...and if anyone tried to stop him, well...they could just go fuck themselves.

* * *

Sam had no clue what time it was when Shane finally dropped him off in the front yard, covered in dirt stains and practically drenched in sea water and sweat. He just knew he probably stank, with everything he'd just been forced to do. And to top that off, he had two huge bags of laundry in tow behind him he was somehow going to have to get dry cleaned by the weekend, when the asshole came back to pick him up for their night on the town. Namely his night. And there was a hint that Sam was going to have to get his hands even dirtier, which really bothered him to no end. If it involved dead people, he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it. In fact, he was definitely sure he couldn't.

On shaking feet, Sam dragged himself to the front door. The lights were off. So mom wasn't waiting for him...which meant she had no idea he'd even left. He sighed, dropping the bags of laundry and kneeling down to feel around one of the plants near the door until he managed to find the spare key stuck in some wet top-soil. Grandpa had a really weird idea of home security...but then again, if vampires were getting in, keys didn't really matter, did they?

As he climbed the stairs, Sam noticed something odd. A light at the top...coming from the direction of his bedroom. He hadn't left it on...

Oh shit. What if there were even more shit-suckers?! What if the whole fucking city wanted to turn him into some kind of vampire laundromat grave-digging bitch?! Drawing closer to his door, he had half a mind to break into a run. Wake mom up. Tell her he'd done some midnight sleepwalk gardening, and hide under the covers with her like he was six years old again. Because in his currently sleep-deprived state, Sam could almost believe that behind mom's apron strings, there was no way the big bad monsters outside could ever hurt him.

"Sam, boy? You out there?" Grandpa called from his room, and Sam almost passed out from shock. And embarrassment. Of course it would be grandpa...he'd said he'd figure something out, didn't he? So...that meant he already knew Sam had been out practically all night.

"Yeah, grandpa...it's me..." Sam squeaked, creeping into his bedroom and tossing the bags of laundry to the ground.

The old man wrinkled his nose at the sight of his youngest grandson, as he sat on the edge of Sam's bed with his hands crossed over his splayed knees. "You. Take a shower. Then we'll talk."

Sam nodded quickly, almost unable to stop his head from bobbing as he dashed towards the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. And it was the single greatest shower he'd ever taken. Because if grandpa was in his room waiting for him, that must mean he had a plan. A solution. Some way to save him from the mess he'd managed to get himself into. And he wouldn't have to eat live goldfish anymore, and he wouldn't have to take that shit to the dry cleaners. Everything...everything was going to be okay.

By the time he'd managed to thoroughly scrub himself down and wrap a towel about his skinny waist, there was a dark brown trail of sandy grit and salt sinking through the shower drain, threatening to destroy the plumbing all over again. Grandpa was still waiting on his bed, hadn't seemed to move at all over the course of the twenty minutes it had taken him to get washed up. Though he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get _all_ of the dirt out of his ears.

"So, what're we gonna do, huh, grandpa?" Sam asked, almost giddy as he skipped into his bedroom and snatched his crumpled pajamas up from beside his bed and tossed them onto the coverlet.

"I'm not doing nothing. You wear a cross, you learn the rosary. You keep your window locked. If he gets in here next time, then you pretend you're sleeping and you keep a stake under your pillow." He paused, scratching at his chin and leveling Sam with a very serious stare. "And under no circumstances do you ever drink his blood. Ever. Again. _Not one drop_. Not one mouthful. You follow these rules, you might just survive."

Sam's smile disappeared and he dropped down to his bed with a whimper. "So...that's it? Nothing else?!"

The old man shook his head. "If you make it a couple of weeks, your system should flush it all out. If not...then boy, _you're up shit creek without a paddle_."

With nothing else to do, Sam snatched up his pajama pants and began to wrestle on the bed until he managed to pull them up over his legs beneath his towel. His grandpa stood up and nodded to him, ruffling Sam's hair.

"Don't worry about it, Sam. Get some sleep. You got about three hours before the bus gets here."

Sam sighed. He hated to say it, but there was no way around this...tomorrow...or...today...he'd have to tell Ed and Alan. Maybe they'd have a few ideas grandpa didn't.

Unfortunately, it would have to wait until later. When Lucy came to wake her youngest son, he was dead to the world. Judging by his pale complexion, she decided it was best to let him stay home. If he was coming down with something, she didn't want him going to school.

* * *

They managed to push their bikes to their limit on the final night, and got to Santa Carla at long last within about three hours, leaving much of the time to have a bit of fun and make sure both Michael and Star fed. The more frequently they ate, the quicker those remnants of humanity would shrink away. Already, David was fairly satisfied with their progress.

A cacophony of howls and shouts preceded their arrival in the hotel, headed by a more than anxious Marko. He hadn't seen his pigeons in two years now, and he was excited to see how big the flock had managed to grow. Michael and Star trailed behind the others, still both somewhat nervous. The last time either of them had been to the sunken hotel, neither of them had ever expected to come back to it. And now...here they were. Coming back. Apparently to spend the rest of their lives there, if David had anything to say about it.

The first sight David was greeted by was a very anxious hell-hound nestled beside his wheelchair, licking it's jowls and whining desperately. It had been a good idea to adopt the little bastard after Max's death. If not for Thorn, there was no telling who might have stumbled into the hotel and torn shit up. He was actually able to pick up a few intermingling scents. All human. It made sense, of course. In the past, there had been the occasional hiker or tourist looking for a convenient make-out spot on a moonlit evening stumbling into their little slice of paradise. Always nice to have an unexpected snack.

There were no new little rodents or bugs skittering about. No sign of fresh life. The Lost Boys had spent far too many years in the sunken hotel for anything to trust the place, on an instinctual level. Their scents were practically worn into the wet stones and rotted foundations by now. Really, it was almost like they'd never left, if you could ignore the fine layers of dust coating the furniture. Not that they'd ever bothered keeping the shit clean in the first place.

Paul happily slammed himself down on the couch with a loud ' **thump!** ' Puffs of rotten upholstery fibers and dust clouded about him, and he waved his hands in front of his face, coughing. "Blech!"

Dwayne rolled his eyes, crossing the lobby towards a small mountain of water-logged books with a frown. He'd have to replace them...should've packed them away. Well, they _had_ left the hotel in a pretty big rush when Michael and Star ran off. As much as the boys had taunted the pair, they hadn't really expected them to be smart enough to try to run. Not that it really did them any good. Dwayne glanced over at Michael and Star as they leaned up against one of the lobby walls together, Michael brushing Star's hair over her shoulder and stroking her cheek. He smirked darkly, shaking his head. He'd warn them about the looks David was giving them, but then where was the fun in that? Better to let them figure things out on their own.

" **Hey! Where are all of my fucking pigeons?!** " Marko blurted out angrily from the ceiling of the lobby, crouching as he scratched about various nooks and crannies. All he could find were the unused remains of old nests and feathers. It was like the pigeons had been gone just as long as them. Thorn looked over at the curly-haired vampire guiltily, tucking his tail between his legs and quietly slipping out of the lobby.


	15. Chapter 15: The Boys are Back

Author's notes: Bike geeks, correct me if I'm wrong. Mike drove a Honda XL500, right? I'll be honest. My bike knowledge is fairly limited. Really hope the vague description I used here didn't make me sound like an idiot. The next chappie will probably be pretty long, when I get back to town. Just a heads-up.

* * *

"Michael. Star." Two icy words echoing in the air caused the pair to unexpectedly jump, turning towards David, who had settled into his 'throne' quite comfortably, one leg laying out pushing the wheelchair back and forth, one propped over the side. "You kids hungry?" He inquired softly, tone much more congenial once they'd pulled away from each other to direct their attention towards him. They didn't need to answer. They hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours. They had to be ravenous.

"I am," Paul threw his head back as he laid down on the couch, one arm covering his face, the other hanging down to brush against the floor.

"You're always hungry. I didn't ask _you_." David replied dryly, not even bothering to look at Paul as he spoke.

Paul pretended to look offended, "so what? Am I expected to just...starve while they get to have a night on the town? You're so cruel, Davey!"

Marko scooped up a fistful of an old nest and sprinkled them down on Paul's head from the ceiling, causing the other vampire to pull his arm away from his face and glare up at him indignantly while he picked twigs and feather down from his hair. Marko spread his hands as if he had no idea what had just happened, smirking as he crawled across the ceiling to slide down the wall, coat scraping roughly against the rocks, dislodging clods of dirt and remnants of old plaster. Paul snatched a mildewy pillow from the couch and aimed it for Marko, just barely missing while the shorter vampire skittered away with a laugh, gracefully ducking the assault.

"I want to get my bike first," Michael decided, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall. Star gave him a nervous look, willing him not to start a fight. She was paranoid that any second he'd say or do something, go too far, and end up getting himself permanently offed. David couldn't help but be amused by the thought. She had no idea. It was almost funny enough to ignore the way the pair obsessively remained attached to each other, even after he'd warned them already at the diner about the 'two against the world' bullshit. But he'd force himself to be patient, for now.

Frankly, after he'd had his fun, mated with Michael in a fit of rage, he almost regretted it. Waiting would have been better. Made the transition for the pair less complicated. Less melodramatic. But he wasn't about to admit he'd made a mistake. The boys would never let him live it down if he did. He recalled the old phrase 'uneasy lies the head that wears a crown', and then shrugged the thought away. Fuck it. He was in charge, and he could do whatever he wanted.

"You want your bike, huh, Michael?" David propped an arm up on the leg he'd slung over the side of his wheelchair, leaning his chin up against his fist. "And what do I get if I let you do that? Hm?"

Michael scowled. "Personal space? Fuck, man, I'm not riding with you every night. I'm not your bitch."

A look was exchanged between Dwayne, Paul, and David...which only made Michael fume even more. "I'm not!"

Star pressed a hand to Michael's shoulder, "he didn't say you were, Michael." She whispered, rubbing her hand in a gentle, circular motion to calm him. Michael opened his mouth to say something to her, but let the words die on his tongue. Yeah, he didn't need to bring it up. She was right.

"I still want my bike," he insisted. Yeah, maybe it wasn't a Triumph or a Harley. Maybe it wasn't built for the kind of riding the others did on a nightly basis, but it was _his._ It was a decent ride. Dual purpose. Comfortable. And if it meant a bit more freedom in a life that was quickly becoming a little too stifling, then so be it. He was perfectly fine with it. Plus, it had been just fine when he lived in Arizona. Frankly, he'd loved it before he met David. And if there was going to be a fight about this, so be it, because Michael sure as hell wasn't backing down.

"Tell you what," David let his arm fall to his side as he leaned forward with a predatory smile. "Eat first. If you manage not to make a mess, we'll take you back to mommy's place to grab your little bicycle. Deal?"

Michael didn't appreciate David's condescending tone, but...he really was pretty hungry. And he was hard-pressed to recall a time David didn't talk like that to him or Star in the last few days. Maybe it would be a good idea to grab a bite to eat first. He didn't want to risk looking at his family like cheeseburgers if he lost control of himself. Frankly, he was still nervous about even seeing them at the risk of finding out that's exactly what would happen.

"Fine. Whatever," he begrudgingly agreed.

David stood up, straightening his lapels and tucking his hands into his coat pockets. Honestly, this would work out pretty well. Get them fed. Send Star home with the boys. Perfect opportunity to have a little chat with Michael again, lay down some ground rules. Possibly clarify exactly what his role was now. 'Drive the point home', if necessary. Yeah. This would work out perfectly, he mused.

Nearby, Marko had just discovered a very large pile of feathers...and white fur. He frowned, turning towards the exit with a growl, " _I'm gonna kill him!_ "

Dwayne rolled his eyes, shaking off one of the lesser-damaged books he'd managed to find, and scanning through the pages to see if he could make out any of the text anymore. They all had their own shit to deal with right now, and pigeons were really nothing compared to a stack of antique novels. It took decades for him to find the damned things. At least Paul seemed to be having a good night. Dwayne glanced over at the wilder member of their group to find him dejectedly shaking out a plastic baggy.

"Man, who the fuck got in my stash?!" He complained, tossing the bag to the ground and slumping on the couch. Marko very pointedly avoided making eye contact with him, in favor of following David out of the hotel.

"I'm starving!" Marko exclaimed aloud, changing the subject.

Just as they were about to wrap their arms around each other's waists, David stepped between both Michael and Star to nod towards Marko's bike. "Star." He stated her name quietly, but with a certain hard edge to his tone. The more they kept fucking around, the more irritated he was becoming.

Once Dwayne and Paul had joined them, they took off together towards the boardwalk. It was time for Santa Carla to be reminded that The Lost Boys were back. And they were going to have some fun.

* * *

It wasn't the setting of the sun that woke Sam up. Nor did Lucy even try. As deep as he seemed to be sleeping, she let him rest. If he was still exhausted the next day, she'd call in to work and take him to the clinic. The only thing that finally seemed to shake him out of his miniature coma was the combination of Nanook licking at his hand and tugging it from the bed, as well as the shrill cry of his bedside telephone.

Sam slapped his face and rubbed at it, unfortunately smearing dog drool on himself in the process. What's worse, his hand kinda smelled a little fishy too...so...he didn't even want to begin to imagine what school was going to be like, if everyone else picked up on his 'eau de poisson', too.

Groaning, he rolled over to pat around on his bedside table until his fingers finally collided with the phone. He yawned and threw his legs over the side of the bed. What time was it? God, it felt like he'd slept for days...

"Mrs. Emerson?" Edgar croaked over the phone.

Sam frowned, "no. It's me. What's up?"

"Where were you today?"

"...What?"

"You weren't at school."

Sam's eyes widened, and he turned to glance out his bedroom window. It was pitch black out. Shit. Had he slept a night and a day?! Why didn't anybody wake him? That meant he only had three more days until the master showed up. Sam wrinkled his nose. The master...douche-...the master. It was only with a concentrated effort that he tried to force himself not to think of that phrase. He could almost feel the claws of those blood drops digging their way into his brain. Was he only going to get worse now?!

"Yeah, yeah...I...I guess I was sick," Sam replied, voice quavering. He was actually getting pretty fucking scared, now. What was happening to him?

"Well, you're really scaring us. We need to know what happened. And something did, obviously. So just spill it on the phone, Sam." Edgar grunted. He almost sounded concerned, which was definitely a surprise.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out. He couldn't afford losing another day. And okay, so what if the Frogs couldn't really help him? He had to tell them everything that happened. Everything. Because if worse came to worse, and he went completely nuts...he'd really rather someone put him out of his misery than dive off the fishy mind-fuck train.

It wasn't easy, describing the events with Shane. The crackers. The goldfish. And that part was the one he had to repeat several times before Ed seemed to even comprehend it. But he told him. Everything. And at the end...

"Sam. I think you're screwed."

He snorted, shifting the phone to his other shoulder. "Thanks, Ed. Real helpful."

"We'll come by in the morning to make sure you wake up for school. It's not safe to discuss a plan of action over the phone like this. And not at night, either. No telling if your master is listening in."

"Please, for the love of god, Ed...don't call him that. It's bad enough that's the only thing I can say. I don't need you doing it, too." Sam scowled. True, in re-telling the story, he'd replaced all of the 'douchebags', 'fishy fucks', 'vampire', and 'shit-sucker' synonyms with 'the master', 'my master', 'lord of Santa Carla', and 'coolest surfing sucker on the planet'. Somehow, he suspected his master had inserted those last two phrases somehow into his subconscious without him even knowing it. After all, he still had no idea what all of his powers were. There was no telling what the master was really capable of...

"Okay. The bloodsucker," Ed conceded, trying to sound supportive.

"...Thanks. Thanks a lot." Sam sighed, "make sure I wake up tomorrow...and...don't tell mom. If she finds out about this, it'd kill her."

"Anything else?" Alan chimed in over the phone, and Sam could almost imagine him shoving his brother away so he could get his word in edgewise.

"Yeah...I think I'm going to go back to bed. I'm really...really sleepy..." Sam yawned. The last thing he heard as his arm went lax and he dropped the phone receiver, was a muffled ' _hang in there, Clark Kent. Rambo and Batman are gonna help_ ', before he was pulled once more into a very deep slumber.


	16. Chapter 16: Boardwalk Confessions

Author's notes: I had spare time today. Throwing another chapter up. Seriously, though. Last one until Monday. I think.

* * *

The boardwalk was remarkably unchanged. For the most part. Maybe some of the songs blaring out of shop speakers were a bit newer. Summer holidays were pretty much over, though the weather was still nice enough to keep the tourism going. There were, however, a few things that stood out. A lot more night-time surfers thronged past the boys, which could be because there had been considerably less danger for them after dark since the Lost Boys had left Santa Carla...or it could be something else.

"Anybody smell fish? I smell fish," Paul kept his head tilted slightly, sniffing at the air and squinting slightly. Yeah, there was no missing that odor. It reeked.

"Maybe there's a whale rotting on the surf somewhere," Dwayne looked behind his shoulder in the direction of the coast.

David looked pensive, not even focusing on the way Star and Michael kept close to each other, snuggling at the edge of the group while the rest of the pack leaned against their bikes. Maybe it was the whole head vampire thing, which he'd been forced to adjust to after Max's death pretty quickly while they hunted his fledglings through half of the Southern states. But...there was something beneath that smell. Familiar...yet still very different. He couldn't quite put his finger on it until he caught sight of a very strange-looking Surf Nazi leading a girl into a darkened alley just at the edge of a boardwalk corner with foreclosed souvenir shops. It wasn't that he dressed differently, it was...well, it was the way he held himself. Predatory. Dangerous.

"I'll be back," he turned to the rest of the pack, shaking his head when Marko made the move to follow him. "Just hang out here. I won't be long." He whispered darkly, taking off swiftly in the direction of the pair. But he did pause just long enough to glare at both Michael and Star. Yeah. He'd deal with them later.

Paul's eyes followed David as he disappeared _"What's the deal?"_

 _"Just checking something. Shouldn't be long."_ David replied darkly.

* * *

"What was that all about?" Star looked over at Dwayne, her arms resting over Michael's as he held her close. He was being exceedingly affectionate lately, and she wasn't really sure why. It was _nice_ , but she couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to show off. Maybe he was still compensating for that weird night at the bar. Not that she could hold it against him, she'd been just as blitzed out of her mind as him. She wasn't proud of what they'd done together either. Maybe it was just because he'd had to ride on David's bike so much. Or a combination of things. She pressed her lips together and frowned, not really sure whether she should even bring it up. It might just make him feel even worse. And they'd already been through so much lately.

Just as Dwayne was about to answer Star's question, David's voice interrupted his thoughts. " _Get me a towel. Fast. I got some gross shit all over my hands..._ " He didn't sound too happy.

 _"On it!"_ Marko chirped, hopping off through the crowd. In no time, he found himself standing at an open storefront with several discount t-shirt racks lining the windows. A couple of girls pointed at his jacket and giggled, talking to each other. He rounded on them with a sneaky little grin and ducked his head slightly, tucking his hands behind his back. "Hello, ladies..." He greeted quietly.

 _"Marko!"_ David snapped in his mind.

Marko rolled his eyes and grabbed a hot pink 'Freddy Says Relax' shirt, before giving the giggling pair a quick wink and heading back in the direction of the alley David had followed the Surf Nazi into. _"Honestly. A guy can't even get laid around here,"_ he complained as he tossed the shirt towards David just as the leader was emerging from the alley.

His gloves were off. His hands were bloodied. He quickly used the shirt to wipe off the stains.

Marko wrinkled his nose, _"That stinks, man!"_

 _"Yeah. Why do you think I'm not eating it?"_ David replied dryly, scrubbing at his fingers and tossing the shirt behind him. _"Looks like we got a bit of a problem. There's a nest."_

 _"What? Damn! Really?!"_ Paul exclaimed, eyebrows raised almost comically.

Dwayne gazed at David from across the boardwalk, _"do we know where it is?"_

David shrugged, _"he pissed me off before I could ask. Asshole tried to bite me. Next one I find, I'll rip his fangs out first thing, so we shouldn't have that problem again."_

 _"Sounds like Paul,"_ Marko snickered.

 _"At least we know where the fish smell is coming from. Should make them easy to spot,"_ David sighed.

* * *

They waited until the boardwalk began to shut down, and flocks of people departed for home, grouped together for safety. Missing persons cases had gone up recently, and so there was a greater sense of caution in the air. But there was an altogether different sort of person the boys could always rely on to keep things interesting. The kind who heard sound advice, and immediately did the opposite. Teenagers, especially, follow this kind of logic more than anyone else in the world.

"Come on, Lisa!" A young man in a green pullover called out to his girlfriend, slipping onto the dead carousel and throwing himself into the gilded bench.

"Hold on, Rob! My skirt's caught on something..." She whispered back, jerking at the pleated material of her summer dress as she managed to flip on the main power to the carousel. It had brushed against the control panel and somehow hitched on a sharpened corner of metal. With one final grunt, she just barely managed to pull it away, leaving a long tear down her side. "Ugh! My favorite dress!" She pouted, spinning towards the carousel and hopping up to join her overly-horny boyfriend on the bench just as the machine lazily kicked to life.

They knew they'd be in deep trouble if they got caught out here at this hour. But who cared? They were having fun.

"Hey, Alex, you guys coming?" Rob shouted out into the darkness, just beyond the borders where the carousel lights reached out.

There was no response. Lisa leaned forward, frowning slightly. "Alex?" She called out. "Judy?"

Nothing.

Rob rolled his eyes and pulled his girlfriend into his arms, kissing her neck hungrily. "Don't worry about it. They're probably screwing around. Let's just enjoy the ride, huh?"

Lisa shrugged him away, "they could be hurt! You know the stories about this place. The missing people. Remember all those kids they found gutted on the beach?!"

Rob leveled her with an irritated frown, "Lisa. If that bothered you so damn much, why did you agree to come out here tonight? It's a little late to have second thoughts, don't you think?" He didn't honestly think she was scared. He was pretty sure she just didn't want to put out...such a fucking cock-tease. She did this all the time to him whenever they actually got some alone time. Honestly, sometimes he wondered why he even bothered.

"Stop being a jerk. I'm going to go make sure they're okay. I've got my pepper spray in my purse..." Lisa stood up from the carousel, glaring down at Rob and crossing to the edge of the spinning carousel to leap down. Stumbling slightly in her heels, she just barely managed to regain her footing and give him one last angry frown as she marched away. Rob shrugged, laying down on the bench to stretch. Whatever. She'd be back.

He closed his eyes and let himself be lulled by the gentle turning of the ride. The music was off, which made for a very strange experience. He'd never been on a mute carousel. Rob jumped up when the music blared to life, and he looked about, a panic-stricken look on his face. "Lisa?!" He blurted. But she didn't respond.

Alex. He had to be playing a prank on him. They were probably all in on it...trying to freak him out. Fine. He'd just stay right here and wait it out. He wasn't a pansy. He could take it.

Suddenly, the carousel picked up speed at an alarming rate, and he was slammed back onto the bench by the momentum. " ** _What the_** -" he shouted, when he noticed a fall of curly black hair spilling over the back of the bench beside him. Looking up with widened eyes, he realized there was a girl leaning down to smile at him flirtatiously.

Not really knowing how to react, Rob gave her a shaky smile. "Uh...you...you friends with Alex?" He asked, hopefully. There was something about that smile that kinda gave him a weird vibe. Couple that with the freakishly fast spinning of the carousel and the music, everything was beginning to feel a little too surreal. Definitely killed the mood...

The girl shrugged her hair behind her shoulders and crossed over the side of the bench to drop down beside him, "friend of a friend." She nodded towards the darkness that seemed to be encroaching on the spinning carousel, "they're out there chatting it up right now. Hey, I saw your girlfriend ditch you..." she leaned in close, licking her lips. "Want us to help you forget?" She whispered.

"Us?" He nervously licked his lips. And he hardly had a chance to react before he felt a hand wrap around his throat from behind, nails digging deep enough to cut the skin.

Rob yelped, looking up into the eyes of a very freaky-looking man with a mane of black hair, and vicious fangs hanging over his lips. His last thoughts before they tore into him were about the stories about bikers on the boardwalk he used to hear back in high school a couple of years ago. He probably should have paid more attention...

* * *

"Alex?" The girl hissed, holding out her trusty can of pepper spray in front of her, and spinning about in mincing little circles as she crept further into the darkness. It wouldn't do her any good. Paul and Marko had already found him.

Michael and David watched her from the shadows. They could attack at any moment. Do whatever they wanted. But Michael was becoming morbidly fascinated with the jack-hammering of her heart, as the girl became more and more upset, just by being alone in the dark. Really, there was nothing reaching out to her. No one emerging to attack. As far as she knew, only her imagination was feeding her sense of terror.

David drew up behind him, wrapping an arm around Michael's shoulder and leaning in close to whisper in his ear, "go on. Take her. Eat. What are you waiting for?"

Michael shrugged. "It's not very exciting, is it? Like shooting a fish in a barrel. It's like she doesn't even have a fighting chance," he shook his head. There was no sense in pretending he even cared any more. She was food. Just like anyone else. He really wasn't even trying to make himself feel guilty anymore. It hadn't done him much good last time, or even the time before. He just had to accept that...the part of him that really cared...it was dead. Just like this girl was about to be, when he made his move.

"You want to make it more exciting? We can do that." David pulled back, chuckling. To them, the shadows were clear and light. To the girl, they were a swirling mass of darkness, and the further she drew away from the brightly-lit carousel, the slower she walked.

"Alex! Please, answer me!" She shouted.

David drew a cigarette to his lips and struck a match, watching the girl's reaction when she spun about to catch sight of his vampiric face and golden eyes glowing in the light of a flame. With one piercing shriek, she dropped her pepper spray and began to run. Her heels made dull thudding noises on the ground.

"Well, go on. Fetch!" David shoved Michael ahead of him, not making a move to join in the hunt. He was far more interested in enjoying a good smoke and a show. Michael immediately took off after her. Whether she was a real challenge or not, he was starving. So he'd take what he could get.

* * *

The kill was fast. Almost too fast. And David didn't think he'd ever tire of the sight of Blood on Michael's face, or the beast surging forth in his eyes anxious to be sated. He was probably the most difficult fucking fledgling on the planet, true, but once he learned to calm his ass down...it would all be worth it. Of that, there was no doubt in David's mind.

Michael slowly pulled away from the girl in his arms. Dead. Empty. Nothing really left to do but get rid of the body. He clawed at her skirt, tearing a large piece of fabric off so he could wipe the blood from his chin. She'd tasted very sweet. Not like the woman back at the strip club. Maybe there was something to that old story about vampires and virgins?

He was too focused on cleaning himself up to notice David's approach, until he found himself looking at a pair of boots right in front of him.

"Now that we've had a bit of fun, Michael...I think it's time we have a little chat," David purred, kneeling down to take his childe's chin in his hand. Michael jerked away, glaring at him.

"What? Going to give me a fucking speech about darkness and eternity? I think I'll pass." Michael snorted, backing away a little to put some space between himself and his maker. There was a very odd energy in the air, and he didn't much like it.

David calmly took a pull from his cigarette and blew a stream of smoke into the air, glancing at the butt as he flicked some ash onto the corpse below them.

He looked back at Michael, "I don't want you fucking around with Star anymore. You got it?"

"Why?" Michael looked back at him suspiciously, "she can make her own decisions."

This was rich. David couldn't help but laugh, before surging forward to push Michael back onto his elbows. The fledgling growled a warning, attempting to scramble away before David gripped him by the collar and held him firm. "I don't care what _she_ does, Mikey. I care what _you_ do. I already told you before. You're mine. I mated you. But go on, try to fight me. I _like_ it when you're mad."

Michael wasn't really sure what to say. And the position they were in right now was getting more than a little uncomfortable. He reached for David's hand on his collar and dug his claws in deep, shoving it away. "'Mated'? The fuck does that even mean? Go to hell, David." He pressed a knee to his master's chest and gave a good push, just barely managing to crawl out from under him before David lashed out with a clawed hand, scratching at Michael's cheek and drawing a few thin lines of blood.

"Michael! Where you going?" He called out, laughing as his fledgling took to the air.

" **I'm getting my bike.** **And you can go fuck yourself, because _I'm sure as hell_ not doing it!** " Michael shouted down at him, flipping David the bird before taking off.

David sighed, looking at the corpse and sticking his cigarette back between his lips. He'd follow, but...fuck, Michael didn't even bother to clean up his mess. There'd be hell to pay when he caught up with him, of that David was certain.


	17. Chapter 17: Break-In

Author's notes: I know. I'm a chapter writing addict. Actually, truth is, I had to put my trip off until tomorrow. So here's an unexpected update. Not a long one. But an update.

* * *

"Shit!" Michael cursed under his breath, rubbing at his shin and hopping on one foot. Sure, he could see just fine in the dark, but apparently he was still incapable of looking at where he was going. He glared down at the bucket of old nails he'd knocked over, and lowered his foot to give it a good kick. Then he flinched when he realized how loud he was being.

Yeah. He definitely wasn't ready to see the folks again just yet. Didn't want to see moms heart broken. Didn't want to see grandpas face when he realized not only had Michael basically forgotten all of his advice and gotten himself caught, but the car was never to be seen again. Didn't want to see...Sam...well, didn't want to see Sam. He'd probably freak out even more than he did the first time, when Michael only had half a reflection. He couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like when Sam realized he didn't even have that much of one anymore.

Digging into his jacket pocket, Michael pulled out his bike keys. He'd pretty much kept them there since he left home. Because he didn't trust Sam not to do something stupid and try to use it while he was gone, because he just knew his little brother would get his neck broken somehow within the first five minutes he tried riding it. Granted, Michael hadn't really expected to _ever_ come home. He'd thought he could pretty much spend the rest of his life running. If he'd known what David was going to do once he got his claws in them, Michael would have carried an extra gas can in the car. But he didn't want to even think about David right now. About that 'mating' bullshit he went on about, without even bothering to actually explain any of it.

More than anything, Michael needed his distance right now. Needed to be alone. Until he could at least calm down enough not to punch David right in the face, giving the jerk a _reason_ to rape him again. Or try. Michael was pretty sure he could take David in a fight this time, if it came down to it. Now that he was fully awake, and within his right mind. David just got lucky, that was all. Or so Michael told himself, to soothe his wounded pride.

Just as he drew the tarp away from his bike and shook it out, coughing when he inhaled a breath of dust and grit, a strange smell permeated the air. It was like the fish on the boardwalk, but...different. Closer, definitely. And it was human, too. He could recognize that much. But...there was something else beneath the odor. Very light. Not as strong as the human scent, or the fish...and a lot like the pack, but not quite. He didn't like that smell. Against his will, it made him want to go on the offensive immediately, attack and destroy whoever it was. A voice in his mind broke it down into very simple words: _Enemy. Maim. Kill._

As the garage door was slowly pulled open, Michael spun about to face the intruder with his fangs and claws drawn, crouching low and ready to pounce.

* * *

Legs. Tiny little skittering legs brushing behind the molding. Squeaks...desperate squeaks as two mice squabbled with each other. Very tiny hearts, fluttering, pounding, pumping through their little veins. And two short lives...little lives...

Sam's eyes popped open, and he jumped up under his covers, tossing his sheets aside and crawling towards the foot of his bed and pressing his head as low as he could to listen intently to the creatures trapped behind his bedroom walls. For one short insane moment, he wondered if the master had sent them to him...and then he shook his head, snapping back to reality.

"I can't do this," Sam pressed his hands to his face and threw himself back against the mattress. He was going nuts, and any day now he just knew he wouldn't be able to pull himself back anymore.

What time was it? Sam turned his head towards his bedside stand, and squinted at the glowing red numbers. 2:15. He glanced towards the bedroom window. Still dark. So...2:15 AM. At least he wasn't dead asleep anymore. But now his room was beginning to feel stuffy, cramped...and he couldn't avoid looking back towards the very spot on his bedroom wall he knew those mice were fighting behind. One really good swing of Mike's old baseball bat could probably break through the drywall...

In an instant, he was at his bedroom door, down the hall, and dashing outside. He needed to get away from his room. At least until the mice stopped fighting...because he just knew if he didn't, he'd have a lot to explain in the morning to grandpa and mom when they found two little corpses on his bedroom floor near a large hole in the wall. Yeah. He could see that going over _real_ well. The changing hormones of a teenage male excuse could only be used so many times. Not to mention, Mike was always the one who had the testosterone issue...not Sam. And grandpa reacted bad enough when Sam tore the label off of his tv guide last summer...

Once he realized he was standing out in the front yard, in the middle of the night, without a cross, wearing nothing but his pajamas...no weapons...Sam realized he'd probably made a pretty dumb mistake. But the master had promised him protection anyway, right? And he hadn't told him he was planning on breaking their deal...so...if anything happened, he was fairly safe. The master wouldn't lie. ' _God damn it, Sam, stop thinking about him like that! He's not your master! He's the master! Wait...'_

"AGH!" Sam gripped at his hair and crouched down, on the verge of throwing a major fit. If he didn't deal with this problem _soon_ , there'd be nothing left of him to put up a real fight when the master came back to fetch him. What's worse? He almost felt eager to do all of the dirty work at that filthy nest building again, as if it was his greatest joy in life to be a vampire's personal butt monkey. Thank god he could at least still summon up _that_ phrase, as long as he wasn't thinking specifically about the master.

Before he could continue his pity train, it was derailed by a fumbling crash coming from the garage. Sam jerked back to his feet nervously, and turned towards the source of the noise. Why was grandpa up so late, he wondered? Whatever. Sam didn't want to be alone right now anyway...maybe talking to the old man would distract him long enough to banish the thought of masters and raw fish...

Just as Sam lifted the garage door, he heard a deep animal growl, and was immediately thrown to the ground, pinned with sharp nails digging into his shoulders.

* * *

David could sense Michael's confusion and anger, as he drew closer to the Emerson house. Paul and Marko had been more than happy to dispose of the body. They liked playing weird games with their food even he found kind of off-putting. Nothing sexual...just...it only took one marionette show with sewn together body parts for David to decide each and every body needed to be destroyed after a meal, or buried. Somehow he suspected Paul would still occasionally sneak an arm or leg back to the cave, anyway.

His childe's thoughts were confused, almost feral. Threatened? Settling on the roof of the garage, David pressed himself close to the pressed tin. He could smell the fish. But...he could also smell exactly who it was Michael was attacking, and David couldn't help the grin that spread on his face. This would be interesting, he mused. He pondered whether or not he should put a stop to it, or let the scene play out.

This was almost worth the trouble of chasing Michael halfway across the city. Not that he still wasn't going to punish him. But that could wait until later.

It seemed odd, those scents mingling together, human and...'vampire'. Or whatever those things from that nest could be called. Honestly, their blood was so warped and watered down, they were frankly beneath the honor of the title, in his mind. So, what could have happened to make the kid smell that way? He focused on Sam's thoughts, to try and figure out the missing puzzle pieces. Hopefully he'd be alive long enough for David to glean that information from him.

Would Michael have enough self-control to stop himself? Either way, it would work out quite nicely for David. Especially if he played the situation to his advantage...

* * *

" **MIKE?!** " Sam shrieked his brother's name out, voice a combination of pain from the nails digging into his skin, and fear of the monster hovering above him, ready to tear his throat out in an instant. And one of the worst things about it, was Sam could actually smell his own blood...and it smelled a lot like the master's.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and Sam squeezed his eyes shut tightly, realizing these were very likely his final seconds. So...Mike had been caught. And he hadn't just been killed. He'd been turned. Apparently permanently. Sam didn't know what hurt more, to be honest. The fact that Mike was a shit-sucker, the fact that his shoulders were being practically shredded, or the fact that his own brother wanted to _eat_ him...

"Sammy?" Michael finally rasped out, his voice deep and gravelly as he quickly dislodged his claws from Sam's shoulders. He could tell just by the way Michael kept shaking his head and the twitching of his fingers as if he wanted to dig them right back in, that it took an awful lot of effort for him to regain control.

"What the hell happened to you?!" Michael demanded, leaning down to sniff at Sam, as if he wasn't sure what or who he was smelling.

Sam gaped, "what the hell happened to _you_ , asshole?!"

Michael pushed himself to his feet and offered a hand to Sam. His claws were shrinking back, until they were just regular nails...though they could still use a good trim. Sam eyed him suspiciously, almost as if he suspected this was just a sick game, and Michael would attack him again...but...Michael's eyes were blue now. And his face was human.

Sam took the hand and pulled himself to his feet, "so...guess you didn't bring me any souvenirs, huh?"

"No, sorry. Somewhere between trying to fight off a pack of ravenous vampires, becoming one of them, and breaking into the garage tonight...I think I dropped it," Michael replied sarcastically. "Now, why do you smell like fish ass?" Michael demanded, crossing his arms. When Sam blanched, he just knew the story was going to be a long one.


	18. Chapter 18: Lighten Up

Author's notes: Curse you, kindle! Your difficult typing format hinders my posting once again! Anyway, posting this on my kindle, but fully plan on a longer chapter after this one when I get back home.

* * *

Paul spun in wild circles about the human and beechwood bonfire they'd built to celebrate their first meal back home. Bright red and orange sparks danced with the shifting kindling, taking to the sky like will o wisps. Tonight, he felt more alive than...well...since he'd actually _been_ alive.

He tossed his hair and grinned over at Dwayne and Marko, both reclining in the sand passing a bottle of the bourbon from that hick bar back and forth. They really couldn't get hammered unless it was delivered through the veins of their meals, but they could still get pleasantly buzzed. They were playing a game of chicken with the surf, to see who pulled his feet away first before the tide came up to scorch them.

Star...she was sitting in front of the bonfire with her knees drawn up to her chest while she propped her chin up on them. She was miles away. Thinking about Michael. Paul sighed, tossing his jacket to the ground and hopping up behind her. If this chick didn't learn to live in the moment, she was going to have a hell of a time when she found out Mikey wasn't hers anymore. No problem. Paul was an expert at distractions.

"Hey!" Star shouted when Paul locked his legs and collapsed on top of her, slumping over her head like a very large human hat, pressing her head down on her knees.

Marko glanced over at them and snickered, taking a swig of bourbon and sprinkling a handful of sand over a moderately irritated Dwayne's head. For his trouble, Marko got his face shoved into the water with an angry shriek.

"Come on, girl, I'm just hanging around," Paul insisted, sliding off of Star onto the sand and trying to pull her close. She hissed and kicked him in the face, scuffing up a bit of sand in the process. He cackled and shook his head, grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling Star in close.

"I'm warning you, Paul," she growled low, not in the mood to deal with him. She wanted to think. She wanted to force herself to regret. Even if it just wasn't happening.

"Ooooo, promises, promises," he sing-songed, leaning in and giving her a deep, long frenchy. It was no surprise that he immediately pulled back with a bleeding tongue. Star continued to glare at him, her own tongue snaking out to lick up the blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. And when he frowned back at her, she couldn't hold it back. Reluctantly...she smiled.

"Gotcha!" Paul crowed, leaping to his feet and grabbing her hands to pull her up with him.

"Stop it!" She protested weakly, though she didn't put up as much of a fight as she had been. He just wasn't going to leave her alone.

"Dick!" Marko yelled at Dwayne, as the burns on his face slowly healed.

"Don't fuck with my hair, Marko. You know that." Dwayne replied, unapologetic.

By the time Marko's burns were gone, they all found themselves dancing around the fire together. Even Star. The crackling of the flames and crash of the waves were their music.

And just beyond the reach of the fire's light, a group of surfers approached, fascinated by the group of teenagers 'foolish' enough to be partying on the beach at night, far enough away from the city for no one to hear them scream. Dwayne was the first to notice the stench.

* * *

Michael and Sam sat beside each other, leaning against the garage wall. For the moment, David was forgotten in the Wake of of his little brother's fish problem.

"Okay, so you start from the beginning and tell me exactly what happened," Michael stated slowly crossing his ankles as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He really hoped this wasn't a long story. He suspected he was on the clock right now.

"Uh...you don't wanna start first?" Sam asked hopefully. He was tired of repeating this story, and each time his 'love' for the master seemed to be growing stronger. It was humiliating.

"What's to tell? You knew I was on the verge of getting caught last time we talked. I'm not 'dead' dead. Connect the dots, dork."

Sam frowned. "You...made your first kill? "

"Wouldn't we be talking about staking the asshole who turned me right now if I hadn't?"

"Well...we can still try and...like...avenge you, Mike."

Michael remained silent, and summoned up the image of David on the deer horns in his mind. This time, dead for good. For some reason or other, it made his stomach lurch. "No. No, Sam. I don't think so. Won't fix anything, really." He paused. "And it would just make the others mad. This time around, I doubt we could take all of them." Sam didn't need to know the other reason.

"Right. Well, I guess..." Sam threw his head back, wincing when he smacked it too hard on the wall behind him.

"Nice. Real nice." Michael laughed softly, ruffling Sam's hair. "I think it's your turn now, though. So, spill."

"Do I gotta?"

Michael looked pensive for a moment, "I could flip you for-"

"Okay, okay!" Sam held up his hands. "But just so you know, half the things I say about the master are bullshit ass-kissing lies he's forcing into my head."

Michael quirked an eyebrow, confused. "Oooookay..."

"Don't look at me like that! This is really hard."

"Sam. I'm not half anymore. I _will_ burn up in the sun when it rises. Get on with it."

Sam rubbed his face, "okay. Okay. So, there was this girl, right? And I was looking at her tits...then there was the master. He made me eat some crackers with his blood on it, and now I've been blessed by-" Sam paused, took a deep breath, and tried to correct himself, "cursed by him to do all his bitch work on the weekends till he decides he wants to vamp me. And I get to-... _have to_ eat small animals and bugs and stuff right now, cause I can't stop myself. And I'm going crazy. And I hate it. And the worst part is that I'm starting to like it, cause the crazy is forcing me to, and no one can help me, and I'm running outta time, and, and, and-"

Michael held up a hand to silence him, "okay. I get it. So you basically saw a hot chick and got yourself in trouble with a vampire. Just like...or kinda like I did."

"...yeah."

 **WHACK!**

"Ow! What was that for, asshiole!?" Sam rubbed the back of his head where Michael had cuffed him.

"You're supposed to be the smart one. Idiot." Michael scolded.

"I didn't get myself turned, Mike!"

Michael rolled his eyes, "no, you're just some kinda weird human-vampire monkey bitch. That's waaaaay better."

Sam huffed, crossing his arms. "I'm...I'm really scared..."

They were quiet just long enough for the silence to become awkward. Michael wasn't sure what he could do. He didn't even know enough about vampires to begin to understand what was being done to his little brother. One thing was definitely for sure, though: the mother fucker responsible for it was dead meat.

But...he knew he probably wouldn't be able to find him alone. Shit. He was going to need help. And he had a feeling the price would be pretty steep.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I...think I can fix this." Michael finally sighed, climbing to his feet.

"Where are you going, Mike?" Sam was worried. He didn't want to let his brother leave.

"I'm going home, Sam."

"You are home."

Michael's eyes trailed around the garage as he slid a leg over the side of his bike, "not anymore, Sammy. Seeya soon..."

"What am I supposed to tell mom and grandpa?!"

Michael shrugged. "You're...usually smart. You'll figure something out."

* * *

David ran his tongue over his fangs thoughtfully. He had so many options right now. He could let the little fuck go insane, pretend killing him was the only merciful option. Remove one more link to Michael's old life, and look like the good guy in the process...running the risk that some day Michael would find out he was lying, and that there might still be some remaining sentiment for his human family. At least, enough for his mate to spend several decades being pissy about it...

Or...he could make a proposition. One that would ensure little Sammy never tried to go after him and the boys again, out of gratitude... And maybe just a little fear. Not only that, but the much bigger payoff of making Michael think he had a choice. And when he ultimately settled on his only real option, he might even learn to enjoy his new position in the pack.

A part of David regretted going with the second option because he really wanted to snap the annoying little fuck's neck...but...this plan definitely had its perks. And the sex...the sex would be incredible.


	19. Chapter 19: One Month

Author's notes: Michael is a sap sometimes. Nuff said.

* * *

Star didn't immediately notice the tension washing over the boys, until mid-spin she found herself colliding into a solid wall. Dwayne's back. Confused, she drew away, and looked behind her at Marko with a questioning glance. But then she picked up the scent in the air, thick and pungent. Without even being fully aware of herself, she found herself changing and ready to go on the attack. She might have, too, if Dwayne wasn't immediately on her, holding Star close to his chest and running his hands through her hair.

"Calm down," he hissed against her head. "Let's just see what they're going to do. _Pretend you're human_ ," he continued to stroke her head, attempting to calm her. And gradually, Star ceased struggling against him, taking a deep breath and sighing. Pressed close to him, the scent of pack was enough to drive the other threatening odor from her mind. To anyone not immediately beside them, it might have looked as if they were embracing.

"Hey," one of the surfers called from the dark, emerging with three others, each of them grinning darkly. But their fangs weren't out, their claws not drawn. Marko and Paul peered closely at the group, remaining quiet.

"You guys are out pretty late," the first speaker continued, tucking his hands into his swim trunk pockets. They were all wearing trunks, two of them toting boards. One of them was even dragging a cooler behind him.

"Yeah?" Paul asked, leaning into Marko and throwing his arm around the smaller vampire, feigning a drunken stumble. "We're just here to party!" He crowed. Focusing on the intruders' thoughts, he didn't even detect a hint that they knew who or what they were talking to. Man, these guys were shit vampires. They couldn't even read minds. And the smell...Paul would be the first to admit maybe they had their own breath problems, going part and parcel with their diets...but at least his pits didn't smell like old fish.

"Party, huh?" The head of the group asked, nodding. "That's cool. Us too. The name's Jerry." He nodded back to the three behind him. "Eddie. Lance." The two with the surf boards. "And...Bennie." The one with the cooler. All of them could have been cut from the same cloth, as bland and unmemorable as they were. Same hair color. Same eye color. Even the same swim trunks. It was like surfing village of the damned.

Dwayne pulled away from Star slowly and turned to glance at the group, remaining silent. Much like he always did with prey and those he didn't deem worth talking to.

Marko dropped down in the sand, shoving Paul away, forcing the other vampire to tumble down beside him with a laugh. They were fairly good at playing dumb. "Alriiiiight! Chill with us, man! Plenty of fire for everyone!" Marko slurred, leaning back on his elbows and smirking goofily.

Jerry eyed Star, licking his lips and nodding his head. "You like to party too, huh?" He asked her, nodding back to Bennie, who drug the cooler forward and flipped open the lid. Inside were several six-packs. Bennie ripped out a few and tossed them to the rest of his friends, hooking his fingers into another pack and offering it towards Dwayne, who stood closest to them.

Star didn't know if she'd be able to talk without losing it, so she simply smiled and nodded, backing away and tripping over Paul's legs. She gracelessly fell down into his lap with a slight giggle.

The surfers grinned, striding closer to the fire and popping open their beer cans, slamming them together as the foam spilt over the sides into the sand below. They were playing out a scene, fully planning to have themselves a pretty big meal once they'd each picked their targets. Dwayne almost pitied them. But when Bennie glanced at his shirtless state, ticked him off mentally as a 'running bear faggot', he officially decided pity wasn't worth his time.

"You from around here?" Paul called out, when Lance snatched up a beer and walked around the bonfire to pass it down to him. He happily took it, nearly scratching the fishy fucker's hand in the process, and Lance looked like he was just about ready to lash out at him.

 _"These guys...what the...I don't even..."_ Marko wanted to shake his head at how clueless the whole group seemed to be. Hadn't they even noticed the bikes nearby? The earrings? Two years wasn't an eternity. You didn't spend your whole life in Santa Carla and just...forget the Lost Boys. You sure as hell didn't forget their reputations. And here they were, apparently thinking they'd found themselves an easy meal. It blew his mind they didn't even pick out the scent of burning human flesh from the bonfire.

 _"Hold on. Just keep your cool. Maybe we can find out where that nest is if we keep them talking,"_ Dwayne glanced over at Marko. In the absence of David, he tended to take control pretty efficiently. Because if Paul or Marko did it, there'd just be a mess every time David went out to take a piss.

 _"Surprised we can't just follow the smell,"_ Marko shrugged, looking up at another surfer who'd somehow managed to make his way around the bonfire to drop down beside him. Eddie? They'd only said their names like...thirty seconds ago, and he'd already forgotten. Not that it mattered. They were going to be permanently dead pretty shortly.

The guy in charge of the fish-ass brigade, Jerry, was making bedroom eyes at Star, who focused on playing the role of Paul's 'loose girlfriend', snuggling against his hair and looking back at the surfer every so often as if she wanted them to switch places. Hey, there was a reason she'd been good bait before she decided to flee with Michael.

 _"I don't think I'm gonna be able to hold on too long, guys,"_ Paul thought gleefully, more than happy to wrap an arm around Star's waist while he tossed back the beer he'd taken from Lance. That particular little bastard had sat down beside him, and was apparently planning to chow down on Paul so Jerry could get his claws on Star in the next few minutes or so.

"Don't hold me that tight," Star scolded in Paul's ear when she pressed her lips to the side of his face as if she were whispering dirty secrets.

Paul shrugged, looking back at her with a dirty grin as she pulled away and struggled to keep up the act. She came very close to hitting him. She regretted not picking Marko instead.

* * *

Michael climbed off of his bike and realized it was probably a better idea to silently wheel it from the property before starting it up. If he was at least going to keep up the farce that he wasn't back for a few more hours. Maybe Sam would come up with a good enough lie, somehow convince gramps and mom he still wasn't back. That he was still human. He doubted he'd have the time right now to linger around thinking about it. David would show up any minute, and Michael wanted to have some distance between himself and his family before he spoke to that asshole again. Because yes, he fully planned on asking for help, but he didn't doubt he'd somehow lose his temper in the process.

As he was finally far enough to start his bike up, he came to a sudden stop. The wind in the trees had died down. And he had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach he was quickly beginning to associate with pack. Spinning about, Michael found himself standing not more than five feet away from a very smug-looking (not that he had any other state of being) David. Arms crossed. As if he just knew what Michael was going to say to him.

"David." Michael ground out.

"Michael." David replied congenially, uncrossing his arms and spreading his hands out. "I should probably punish you for running off on me like that," he mused.

Michael threw his head back and took a deep breath, letting it out and then slowly lowering his head again to gaze at David. This wasn't going to be easy. "I think I'm going to need your help."

David's eyes flicked over Michael's crotch.

"Yeah. No. Fuck off." Michael shook his head. "Help with my brother."

"Not really into that scene, Mikey."

"Are you _trying_ to piss me off?!"

"...Is it working?"

Michael kicked down his bike stand and stepped away from his bike, throwing his hands in the air, "will you just let me talk?"

David shrugged, digging into his coat pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, "shoot."

"There's another asshole bloodsucker out there who's got my brother doing all of his bitch work, and somehow he's driving Sam off the deep end. I need your help finding and torturing the fuck before I murder him. And I want to make it slow. And I want to make it painful. And I want to make sure no one ever touches Sam again. Ever." As he spoke, Michael could already feel himself losing it again, wanting to tear into someone...anyone...but unable to do it, because he was pretty sure launching an attack at David wasn't really going to help his case...even if it maybe relieved a little bit of his stress.

Taking a cigarette from his pack, David struck a match on his boot and lit it up as he drew it to his lips. He took a good, long pull, affecting a very unconvincing thoughtful expression. He knew what he was going to say. He didn't need to pause and think about it. "Okay. He's got your little baby Sammy licking the shit off his boots, huh? Sounds like he's in thrall."

Michael sighed, "and what's that?" He just knew he was already stating the lines in some kind of mental script David had planned out. Fucker was probably listening in the whole time, standing outside the garage, waiting for the perfect moment to make his supremely dramatic entrance. Which he did.

"Think of it like this: you get a taste, but you don't get the full course. Since it's only a taste, you aren't really gonna turn. You're just going to...want to. And your brain goes before your body does. A vampire brain in a human body...not pretty, Mikey. Not one bit. Not smart to make a thrall either, cause they're real unpredictable. If you don't turn them, they're pretty much bound to turn on you. And everyone around them. Fun little game if you plan on offing someone, not so much if you let it drag out too long."

"Okay. Got it. Thanks. Are you going to help me?" Michael demanded.

"Sure. He's probably part of a nest we gotta dig out of the city anyway, judging by that fishy smell on your jacket."

"Right. Okay. Thanks." Michael made as if he were about to climb onto his bike, when David tossed his cigarette to the ground and strode forward, grabbing Michael's arm and jerking him around until they were standing face-to-face. The younger vampire wanted to shove him away, growl at him, lash out...but he knew enough to realize that wasn't going to help him if he was expected to play nice with his master. So he stilled himself, and waited for the hammer blow. The Faustian agreement he'd have to make. He knew he wouldn't like it. Knew he'd be pissed off the moment it was out in the open...but god help him, if it meant saving Sam's life, he'd fucking _have_ to play David's stupid little games now by his rules.

They were close enough for Michael to feel David's breath on his face. He clenched his fists, and just...waited. Waited for David to say something. Anything. He almost looked too amused by Michael's irritation to even talk.

"I'm not going to fuck you, Michael, so just calm down," David drawled. Not that he didn't want to. But it would likely be counter-productive, considering the plans he had in mind. And he'd have his cake soon enough, anyway.

"...Then what are you going to do, huh?" Michael scowled.

"Nothing. It's what you're going to do." He grinned, when he caught the flurry of angry expletives running through his childe's mind. "You're going to start treating Star like a little sister. That's all. You're going to _try_ to enjoy yourself. In fact, I'll even do you one better. Something I know you'll be more than happy to agree with. Keep your hands off of her for one month. Just one month. If, in that time, you aren't..." David trailed off, bringing a hand up to brush Michael's hair back from his face and caress his cheek. It took every ounce of control he had for the younger vampire not to shove his hand away.

"If, in that time, you aren't...overwhelmed by your need for me, I'll drop it. I'll let you two be the happy little couple again. I won't even touch you. And even if you give in, accept your place as my mate, I'll still help you save your little fuck of a brother. So, what do you say, huh?" David pulled his hand back, smirking again. "Do you agree?"

Michael almost couldn't believe his ears. That was...that was it?! Just basically be himself, and that's all? Wow. David sure did think a lot of himself if he expected Michael to just give in and throw himself at his master's feet like some little love sick puppy just because they'd fucked a couple of times when Michael wasn't in his right mind. He didn't need to think. He already knew his answer. Piece of cake. "Yeah. Sure." He snorted. "I'll _try_ to keep my hands off of you, David." Michael rolled his eyes.

"One month." David help up a finger to illustrate his point.

"Yeah. I got it. One month. I don't know how I'll make it through," Michael's voice dripped with bitter sarcasm.

And for David, he couldn't hold back the urge to pull Michael in for a very long, very deep kiss. At first, Michael struggled, enraged and surprised at the same time. But when he pulled back, there was a glazed look in the boy's eyes. "One month." David grinned.

"Month?" Michael repeated, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah...no problem." He climbed onto his bike, a little bewildered. What just happened? Whatever. Didn't matter. This was going to be a cakewalk, if even that. David's self confidence would be his downfall, which wasn't really anything new. Michael would have to pick up a toothbrush to get the bastard's taste out of his mouth.

As Michael drove away, David took to the air with a chuckle. He wondered how long Michael would last before it got to him. A week? Two? Time would tell...he'd be begging for it long before that month was up though. Of that, David was certain.


	20. Chapter 20: Beach Fight

Author's notes: A liiiiiittle violent in this chapter. Heads up.

* * *

"So, you didn't answer my question," Paul slurred again. "...You from _around here_?" And if the surfers had been paying more attention, given the Lost Boys more credit, they might have managed to pick up the piercing note in his question. The veiled threat. Lance, who sat beside him, chugging back the remains of his beer can...only grinned and shook his head.

"Just got into town for that midnight surfing contest they got coming up. Rumor has it, Shane Powers retired...but he's gonna ride the waves one last time just to let everybody know where he's kicking back his heels."

Star and the boys exchanged a confused look, and it wasn't an act. 'Shane Powers'? 'Midnight Surfing'? At first, they'd thought the surfboards the surfers had brought to the beach were just props. Something to make them look harmless. Dwayne peered into Lance's mind, trying to glean more information. He barely concealed his surprise. So they could tolerate running water, no problem. That was one up they had on the Lost Boys, but it didn't really make up for the fact that they couldn't pick out their own kind when they smelled it. Or something very distantly related to their own kind.

"Where are you staying?" Star asked, smiling flirtatiously and leaning back against Paul so she could shift around and get a better look at Jerry on the other side of the fire. Even though she couldn't pick up the others' thoughts yet, it was fairly impressive she was smart enough to ask a question like that. Not that they'd really get the straight-forward answer, out loud.

Jerry laughed, crossing around the bonfire so he could edge just a bit closer to the couple, ready to snatch Star up into his arms when the time came to begin feeding. "Here. There. Got some pretty killer digs not far from here," he replied. And in the surfer's mind, Dwayne caught a quick flash of a large building. It was...familiar...but he couldn't quite place it. He shook his head. Must have been somewhere he went when he was human. Sometimes those memories came back, but for the most part, they tended to drift away over time. The little ones, at any rate. The things that weren't important. But clearly, _this_ was. He'd have to mention it to David later. Hopefully their pack leader would have a few ideas.

Bennie leaned forward to flick at Dwayne's hair, "you should get a cut. Kinda makes you look like a pussie," he informed the dark-haired vampire, causing Dwayne to straighten to his full height and bite back a snarl. Did they really need to ask any more questions? His patience was running thin, very quickly. The smell didn't help, either.

 _"Oh man, he's gonna geeeeeeet iiiiiiit,"_ Marko mentally sing-songed, grinning over at Dwayne, and then noticing Eddie sidling even closer to him from the corner of his eye. The curly-haired vampire's lips twitched when he got the distinct impression in the fishy fuck's mind of what his scalp would look like on a lampshade.

 _"You know, that's not a bad idea,"_ Paul smirked, giving Star's hips a good squeeze before she slapped his hands away. She was on the verge of just climbing up and kicking sand in his face again, girlfriend act or not.

 _"Shut up, Paulie,"_ Marko snapped. Yeah, maybe he didn't condition obsessively like Dwayne did, but he was still fond enough of his own hair to get insanely defensive about even the idea of parting with it.

"You got a death wish?" Dwayne finally sighed, uncrossing his arms. They weren't going to get anything else out of these douche-bags tonight besides bad tempers. And frankly, they didn't need that kind of buzzkill tonight. Not when they hadn't even gotten a chance to celebrate like this in two years.

Bennie grinned, stepping back, "do you? I might help make it come true tonight." Then, very slowly, he proceeded to lower his head...and when he raised it, Dwayne almost jumped in surprise. The bastard was even uglier than before. Not only were his eyes as black as a shark's, but dark spider veins were running all over his face, and his nose had shrunk back until it was barely two indentations...instead of two sharp sets of fangs, all of his teeth very much resembled a shark as well. He was one gnarly son of a bitch.

Each of the other surfers in turn shifted, matching feature for feature the horrible details of the first, and grinned madly back and forth at the Lost Boys, just about ready to pounce, when...Paul's mad cackles rang through the air.

"Your momma fuck a monkey or something, dude?" He sneered at Lance, when the very confused, and also very angry vampire lashed out to tray and get a grip on Paul's hairs. In perfect time, Star rolled out of his lap, and Paul dived for the other vampire, all the while still laughing as if they were playing some sort of mad game. And really, they were.

Panicking, Jerry stepped back as he noticed each of the Lost Boys, including Star, morph. He didn't know what to make of the situation. They'd only been turned for like...three weeks! Shane said they were the only pack in Santa Carla, and he didn't say anything about a buncha bikers and a hippy with yellow eyes!

"What's wrong, baby? Don't wanna party anymore?" Star cooed, drawing close to him and holding her hands out towards Jerry to pull him into an embrace. He danced just beyond her reach, spinning about and taking off down the coastline.

Star looked back at Dwayne, and he nodded. She took to the sky and flew after him. And that...was when the others began to scream.

"THEY CAN FLY?!" Bennie gaped, momentarily distracted from Dwayne, who'd stepped closer to him. In an instant, his eyes went wide, and his jaw went slack when he looked down...to realize Dwayne was holding his heard in one clawed fist, blackened and dripping with thick, dark blood. Wordlessly, he collapsed to his knees, body twitching like a fish out of water. Dwayne tossed the heart into the bonfire and grimaced. The smell of the goop on his hands was even worse than the guy had smelled before he was torn open.

"Don't bite them," Dwayne advised, glancing over to Paul, who was just barely too late to heed the other vampire's advice, because he was rearing back from the shredded neck of his kill, gagging and spitting out mouthfuls of the stuff.

"Shiiiiit, I think I'm gonna be sick..." He moaned, clutching his stomach and leaning over to wretch. Along with this unfortunate snack, came his meal from earlier. _"Damn it!"_ he mentally exclaimed over the waste.

Marko, in the meantime, had managed to restrain his own 'dancing partner', and was happily digging a knife into the surfer's scalp while he hummed a tune. The fishy bastard was strong, but Marko was far stronger. "Got me a live one!" He crowed, as the sound of bone scraping on metal joined in with his hums. Once he was done, of course, he simply snapped Eddie's neck and tossed the scalp into the fire. "On second thought, I don't think I like the color," he shook his head. "Clashes with my jacket."

"Where's Star?" Paul looked about. By now, she should have already finished catching and killing the last one. But she was nowhere to be seen. Then the sudden sound of a distant scream interrupted his thoughts, and he noticed Dwayne gazing up at the sky. The screaming was growing ever louder with the passing second, until finally...Jerry plummeted right into the center of the bonfire with a sickening crash, sending sparks flying all about them, and causing great mounds of the charred beech-wood to splinter out.

Marko just narrowly missed an ember to the eye, and glared upwards at Star, "hey! Watch where you're aiming!"

"Sorry," she called down, though none of them actually thought she was. But they were certainly impressed. Who knew she could be that creative?

* * *

Michael reclined on the couch in the lobby, staring up at the ceiling. "Shouldn't they be back by now?" He glanced over at David, who sat in his chair squinting at a picture in a water-logged magazine. It was Playboy. And he was almost infuriated he couldn't make out the articles.

"I dunno. Probably. They're old enough to look after themselves," David shrugged.

"Implying what?"

"What?" David looked over at Michael.

"Implying I'm not?"

The older vampire shrugged, "not really. You get so pissy, I'm pretty sure it would just take one bitch fit, and-" David snapped his fingers.

"...What do you mean-" Michael snapped his fingers.

"I mean-" David snapped his fingers.

"You mean I'd be dead?"

"Yep. Skewered. Shish-kebabed. Finished. Gone. Dust. Roadkill."

Michael rolled his eyes, "you don't even know me, David."

"I followed you around for two years. I watched your every move. I fucked you twice. I know you, Michael."

The brunette glared back at David, "are you just going to keep bringing that up?"

David shrugged, "it's true. I don't lie. I fucked you."

The younger vampire decided to just remain silent, before he lost it. Because he didn't want David to get the satisfaction that maybe...just maybe he had a point about Michael's temper. But then he realized something, "what do you mean you watched my every move?!"

David just grinned back at him. "Every. Single. One."

At that moment, probably for the better, Dwayne, Marko, Paul, and Star arrived, quite happy, judging by the sounds of their whoops and hollers heralding their appearance in the lobby. Even Star looked happy. Michael's face softened when he noticed that, and he might have jumped up to pull her into his arms if it weren't for the warning glance from David. So instead, he sighed and remained on the couch. One month. He could do one month...easily.

"Hey, Davey, how you feel about catching a midnight surfing contest, huh?" Paul called out, dive-bombing the couch. Michael just barely managed to jerk his feet away in time before the other vampire nearly managed to crush them.

"...surfing contest?" David quirked an eyebrow, face stoic as he tossed his magazine aside. Alas and alack, he was not meant to read the runny love advice of a successful shoe salesman, "at midnight?"

Paul nodded, grinning as he pulled his legs up on the couch and butterflied his knees out. Michael scooted away to make space for Star to sit between them, though he forced himself not to drape his arm over her shoulder. She glanced at him curiously, obviously expecting him to do just that. But he avoided eye contact. They could talk about it later, when they had a bit more privacy. If they ever did.

"Yeah. I think a good portion of that nest will be there." Dwayne added quietly, leaning up against a wall and crossing his arms. Marko crawled up the wall beside him, grinning, when he heard the soft footfalls of Thorne padding into the lobby. He'd stay hidden just long enough for the hellhound to think he was safe, and then-...a firm glare from David canceled his devious plans. Marko pouted, crawling up to the ceiling.

 _"Asshole. I want my pigeons back!"_ He mentally yelled at David, who decided to ignore him.

"Nest?" Michael looked over at David, who smirked back at him.

"Yeah. I think the guy in charge of it might be the one who monkey bitched your little bro."

 _"I'll fill you in later,"_ David held up a hand to stop the others from asking any questions about it.

Michael snarled, "I'll _kill_ him."

"Calm down there, Mikey. We don't even know when or where the contest is," Marko called down, to which David looked about incredulously.

"You dumbasses didn't even think to find out?!" He demanded. And even Dwayne looked shocked, realizing that one little detail they'd forgotten. Sometimes even _he_ didn't think of everything...

* * *

They didn't roost in their old spot. Marko's incident had forced the boys to pick a new place before they'd even started tailing Michael and Star. Further into the hotel, they nestled together from several pipes embedded in a chasm just above the larger portions of shattered rock that had once stood as the hotel's foundation. If you couldn't fly, getting there would be impossible. And once Dwayne and the boys informed David that flying was definitely not one of the apparent skills of the fishy fucks, he was more than happy to comfortably rest there. Not that they'd likely be able to even get past Thorne in the first place.

David forced Star to nestle beside him, though she'd much rather have slept alone in her own little corner, or even better...with Michael. But the pack leader was very firm. He insisted she needed to get better acquainted with his scent. When Michael moved to join them, the sneaky grin on the leader's face was more than enough to make him decide to sleep just a bit further down at the end of their pipe, beyond his reach.

"Michael?" Star asked sleepily, confused when David wrapped an arm about her torso and watched Michael settle in. He looked at her guiltily and shrugged.

"Don't wanna be by David," he mumbled, since it was very clear their pack leader would be between them to keep Michael from touching her. And David couldn't help but grin at that. The more stubborn Michael was, the more uncomfortable his little trial was going to be. He didn't even bother insisting they scent bond that night. Because it would be much funner to watch Michael squirm.


	21. Chapter 21: School Days

Author's notes: Almost used a quote from Lysistrata, like I'd used a reference to Orpheus and Eurydice in the last story, but all the best ones reference women. And as funny as it might be, referring to Mike as a lady on a sex strike against her husband just didn't seem to make much sense. But it's an amusing thought. They are reading an English book, by the way, so the page numbers won't really match up with the actual books. That's my excuse for not knowing it right now, because my only copy available right now is on my kindle. And yes, Falcon, you hit the nail on the head last review.

* * *

Sam yawned, stretching his arms behind his seat, before a very irritated girl behind him poked his back with her pencil. Stacy. Class bitch. He flinched at the thought. Great, now he was turning into a jerk on top of the crazy and the raw tiny animal diet.

"You're leaning on my desk," she hissed, glaring at him when Sam turned to give her a questioning look. He shrugged, returning to a sitting position and slumping a bit lower in his chair. That morning, he hadn't had trouble waking up. But the Frogs didn't know that...which was why they showed up around breakfast kitted out in their army surplus supplies as if they were ready to stake him instead of serve as living alarm clocks. He could have punched Ed and Alan for the way they made his mom freak out, acting like Red Dawn had hit Santa Carla or something.

Since the incident with Max, and definitely since Mike went on the run with his girlfriend, Lucy had been a little bit more protective of her youngest son...and a little bit more paranoid that certain fantastical things could happen, that she might not have even wasted her breath on before. Because when you find out vampires _do_ exist, and they're more than happy to come after your family members, it tends to make an impact.

"Sam Emerson, will you read the next passage?" His English teacher, Mrs. Bloom, demanded from the front of the class. The woman who somehow always seemed to spot anyone at the exact moment their brains detached themselves from the thinking space to wonder free in the outer realms of reality, where page numbers and grammatical essays couldn't reach them.

"Uh...y...yeah?" Sam replied hesitantly, looking down at his English book.

There was a long silence, interrupted only by the sound of flipping pages as Sam tried to figure out their spot.

"Chapter twenty one, Dracula, Mister Emerson. Begin at the top of page 364."

Sam nodded, clearing his throat, "'Rats, rats, rats! Hundreds, thousands, millions...'" He trailed off, paling slightly.

"Mister Emerson. Continue." She was getting impatient.

"Right...right. Yeah. Um...'millions of them, and every one a life. And dogs to eat them, and cats too. All lives! All red...'" This part was too close for comfort. Each word Sam read was like a nail being pounded into his skull, reminding him of a sudden craving sneaking into his mind and his stomach. Rats...cats...dogs...the master would give them to him one day soon, wouldn't he? The master wouldn't let Sam go hungry!

"Samuel!" Mrs. Bloom dropped a book on her desk, causing a very loud ' **BOOM'** to very rudely drag him out of his mad wanderings. Sam gave her a very quick, very dark glare, to which she raised her eyebrows. "Is there something wrong with you?!" She demanded, when Sam realized exactly what he was doing and quickly looked down at his book.

"Sorry, Mrs. Bloom. Not feeling well. Ah...'all red blood, with years of life in it, and not merely buzzing flies! I laughed at him, for I wanted to see what he could do. Then the dogs howled, away beyond the dark trees in his house...' I can't do this." Sam shook his head, pushing his book away.

"What do you mean you 'can't do this'?" Mrs. Bloom asked, incredulous. "You don't have a choice. Not until you get to the end of the passage."

"Yeah? And what are you going to do about it if I don't?" Sam reeled back saucily, gazing back at her with a fierce heat in his voice. A voice that he hardly recognized. Nervous laughter filtered through the classroom. Some people found this funny, others became suddenly very aware that it was possible...just possible...that Sam, the quiet geek, very well might be one of those kids who brought a knife or gun to school and snapped without so much as a warning.

Mrs. Bloom's mouth fluttered like a fish trying to breathe in open air, and god Sam wished he didn't think of fish right then. He really should apologize for acting like a jerk, but he could hardly force his own voice to obey him. So he just...stared Mrs. Bloom down, and soon she was wordlessly pointing to the door.

"P...Principal..." She stated waveringly, tearing her eyes away from Sam's face. And...he was almost amused to realize he'd kinda scared her.

* * *

There was a bright side to being sent to the principal's, Sam mused, as he stepped into the waiting area and checked in with the receptionist at the front desk. This was the domain of the Frog brothers, and they were already sitting near a potted plant awaiting their final daily judgment.

Edgar looked over at Sam, grinning, "Sam! Smart thinking. Get yourself sent here so we don't have to wait until lunch to make a plan of action. I like that." He grunted as Sam walked over to them and flopped down in a chair just opposite theirs in the square waiting area.

"Wasn't on purpose," Sam shook his head, staring at the potted plant beside the Frog brothers. Little tiny ants were crawling over some of the tiny leaves. It was fake, but under the soft glare of the fluorescent lights above, Sam could see a sticky substance clinging to the plastic greenery...someone had probably spilled coke on it. He just barely managed to keep himself from licking his lips. Ants...very, very little lives...

"You don't have to cover. We know you wanted to see us, since we didn't get to talk much this morning while your mom drove us to school. Completely understand why you wanna keep her in the dark. Womenfolk don't need to be exposed to this kinda stuff," Alan nodded sagely at his own words as he spoke.

"Look, guys, I need to tell ya something...but you gotta promise me you won't freak out." Sam wasn't sure why he was about to tell them this, but if he expected them to help in some way, then...well, they had to know.

"Yeah? What is it? Did he come back and decide to go ahead and make you a halfie?" Edgar leaned forward with a frown, patting at his coat, and Sam didn't doubt he probably had a sharpened pencil beneath it as an emergency stake, should the need arise to do a little vampire hunting. He almost scowled...had Ed already considered the possibility of taking Sam out? At _school_?!

"My brother's back."

The Frogs looked at each other, and then quickly back at Sam, "so he finally nailed the suckers? Got them off his trail for good?" Edgar raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected Sam's brother to ever manage something like that off...which was just as well, really...because he didn't.

"No." Sam shook his head.

"So he's giving up? Taking one final stand in the city it all began? A fight at sunset on the beach?" Alan joined in, and Sam could almost imagine the scene playing out in the Frog brothers' head. A beach western sequence...possibly starring Yule Brinner as Michael.

"No." Sam replied, voice wavering. If they even thought for a second he'd be adding slaying his brother to their agenda, they had another thing coming. Granted, his shoulder still ached where he'd had to bandage them last night, but his jerky big brother hadn't really meant to do that. He hoped.

Edgar frowned, "...if he didn't kill them...and he's not going to...and he's not giving up..." The wheels in his brain slowly squeaked to life, and the Frog brothers gazed at each other in silent thought. They didn't look like they were quite making the right connections as fast as Sam had hoped.

"Jesus Christ, guys! My brother's a shit-sucker! A full one, this time!" Sam shouted, getting an angry look from the receptionist for his outburst. He smiled at her sheepishly and ducked his head, sinking down in his chair and covering his face.

"You're gonna need to get yourself a good sharp stake-" Edgar began the speech, to which Sam leaned over across the sitting area and kicked him in the shin.

"OW!" Edgar grunted, pulling his legs back and staring at Sam incredulously. "Calm down, rat-muncher! We're just trying to help you!"

"Why is your solution to my problems always 'kill your brother', huh?!"

Alan shrugged, "that's not true. When you got grease on your jeans, we told you club soda would clean it. And honestly, you're lucky. Sometimes I wish staking Ed would solve all my problems."

Edgar looked over at his brother with a frown, and Alan smirked, "kidding. Kidding."

"Anyway, Mike said they're gonna help me. And gramps said if I wait a few weeks, the master's blood will flush out of my system," he felt a twist in his heart at the thought. Parting with the master?! Why would he want to do such a thing? Wait...why wouldn't he? God damn it, he was getting tired of these freaky thoughts messing with his head.

"It's not gonna be too easy, Sam. I think the longer you go without seeing the...'master'-" Edgar held up his fingers in quotations as he said the last word, "-the crazier you're gonna feel. And he's probably not going to be cool with just letting his slave run off on him like that. We'll help you too, but under no circumstances do we wanna get involved with that bloodsucker you call a brother. You're gonna have to figure out a way for us to be in different rooms when you need us so we don't lose control and let our hunter's instincts take over. Trust me, sooner or later, you'll thank us if you just go ahead and give us the okay to off him," Edgar sounded way too casual about killing Mike for Sam's comfort.

Sam crossed over to the potted plant while Ed spoke, unable to control himself any longer. He quickly ripped off a few of the plastic leaves with the largest clusters of ants and shoved them in his mouth.

"UGH! GROSS!" Alan exclaimed, jumping out of his chair and scooting further away from Sam, who just shrugged.

"I ate _live goldfish_ the night before last," he mumbled through a mouthful of plastic as he tried to swallow all the ants without choking, "this is nothing."

* * *

They sat together in a line along the side of the bridge, passing a joint back and forth, long after the train had passed for the night. Star sat beside Michael, every so often looking over at him expectantly when she'd rub at her shoulders, though she wore a jacket. He should be putting an arm around her by now, she thought to herself. Yes, he had been clingy lately, but now...now he wasn't even paying much attention to her, aside from strange little pensive looks he'd give her when he thought she wasn't looking. It had started when they got back from their hunt on the beach. Michael and David had been off alone _again._ Did he say or do something again to get himself in trouble?

And David, who sat on the other side of Michael, smoke drifting from his mouth while he just relaxed and soaked in the night fog brushing against his boots, he looked far too happy with himself. After they woke up, neither of them had said much. Not when they grabbed a bite to eat. Not when they took a trip to the bridge tonight. Nothing. Frankly, it was driving her crazy.

"Looks like soup," Paul remarked on the other side of Star, peering down into the fog below.

"Looks like fog," Dwayne replied matter-of-factly.

"Hey, I'm trying to make poetry here, dick," Paul retorted.

"I don't think one simile counts as a poem. One tired, over-used, unrealistic simile," Dwayne just shook his head.

Marko grinned, biting his thumb, "you read too much."

Dwayne shrugged, "and you jerk it too much."

"You mean those aren't birth marks on his dick?" Paul asked with a snicker.

Star wrinkled her nose in disgust, "you're disgusting. All of you."

Paul pressed up against her side with a dark smile, "betcha love that, don't you? Betcha got all kinds of dirty thoughts goin' through your head right now about what you'd like to-"

"Dude. Stop." Michael leaned forward, frowning at Paul. And it almost made up for the fact that he didn't have an arm around her shoulders.

Paul threw up his hands in surrender, "hey, hey, no need to get your panties in a knot. Just a little pillow talk, Mikey. Don't you like pillow talk?" He looked over at David, "hey, Davey, doesn't he like pillow talk?"

David looked over at Paul with a smirk and a shrug, "dunno. But if you were looking for some tips for Star..." he peered at her darkly, "she likes to have her hair pulled."

Michael's eyes widened and he looked back and forth at them, then Star, and he didn't need to say anything. The words were written on his face. She blushed, "you never asked." And god, she really didn't want to have this conversation right now. Not with the others sitting around with those stupid grins they always had, as if everything remotely sexual was some kind of joke. And privacy...privacy with the Lost Boys was an illusion. She'd learned that fact the hard way the first time around. It was funny, in a way, that she didn't like to discuss bedroom matters with the boys without getting horribly flustered, but that she had pretty much learned to kill people...human beings...without batting an eye, and that too far faster than she'd ever thought she would. Because she wasn't one of them anymore, and the more she fed, the stronger that conviction became in her mind.

* * *

By the time they'd begun to head for their bikes, Michael held back at the edge of the group, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. David didn't need to be told. He knew Michael wanted to talk to him. And since he didn't know about their ability to casually read each other's minds, David didn't see any reason to shatter the illusion of privacy by bringing it up yet.

"Something you wanna talk about, Michael?" David asked, walking over to his childe and running a finger tip along Michael's shoulder idly, pulling away just before Michael moved to angrily shrug it off.

"Yeah. My brother. You still haven't told me what we're going to do," Michael replied, taking his hands out of his pockets and putting his hands together to pop his knuckles. David wrinkled his nose at that. Nasty habit.

"I'm keeping an eye on the kid, don't worry," David shrugged. It was true. Thorne was pulling night duty at the Emerson property. Not that he could do too much to another vampire besides deter him with a few nasty bites, but it would probably be enough to drive the fishy fuck away long enough for David to find out he was there.

"Okay. So you're keeping an eye on him. What else are we going to do?"

David rolled his eyes, tucking a cigarette between his lips and striking a match, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he lit it, "you heard the boys. There's a surfing contest coming up. We'll find out tomorrow night on the boardwalk when it is, and we'll find him then. As long as we keep your little bro safe and far away from him, he'll be fine after a few weeks. When we kill off the nest, everything will be bright and sunny again." He took a drag from his cigarette and smirked at Michael, who seemed to be relaxing somewhat. He'd been pretty tense since they woke up. It was clear enough why. The kid hadn't slept too well, all alone in his little corner.

He could tell Michael a lot of things, explain exactly why he wasn't going to last a month, but David honestly doubted it would do much good besides piss him off. Michael really was someone who had to learn by example, not words alone. Impulsive. That was the word. Michael was impulsive. Acted without thinking. If David just came out and told him there was a lot more to the 'mating' thing than he'd let on, it would only piss the kid off. And he'd deny it anyway. Insist he was somehow stronger than his instincts. But if that were true, he never would have jumped off the bridge with them, would he?

"David," Michael ground out, and he shifted to one foot, not really wanting to ask the question he had in mind, but knowing he really probably had to. And David smirked when he listened into his childe's mind before the words were even spoken.

"A month. You gave me a month. Why is it so fucking important to you that I don't even touch _her,_ though?" Michael demanded. And David resisted the urge to snort, because he could already sense exactly what sort of tension was bugging Michael, and the kid had it firmly in his mind that it must be because he couldn't fool around with Star. The denial was strong in this one.

"You really want me to tell you, Michael?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Damn it, David, you're starting to piss me off."

"So what else is new?" David flicked some ashes from his cigarette and looked back towards the boys in the distance, who'd climbed on their bikes and were listening to the conversation as if they were standing right beside him. "You can only live alone so long." David shrugged.

"What?" Michael shook his head, confused.

"Packs. Those help. But we're not human, Michael. We're predators. We kill. We feed. We fuck. It's a wild ride, but it starts to get to you after awhile. Eventually we all need someone even closer than pack to help keep us from completely losing our minds to the blood lust. It's a fine balance, Michael."

"What does this have to do with anything I just asked you? Are we even having the same conversation?" Michael scowled. He was getting impatient. Good. David liked to watch him squirm.

David continued talking, as if Michael hadn't interrupted him, "so we pick someone. Doesn't matter who. I picked you. Not at first, mind you. I wanted you as pack, first. But when you almost _killed me_..." David licked his fangs and grinned, "I made up my mind then and there. So maybe there's a little revenge involved, and maybe it's because I liked the challenge. I knew you really were a born killer, even if you didn't want to see it. Sooner or later, you were going to be mine. So...now you are." David spread his hands, cigarette clasped between two fingers on his right hand leaving a trail of white smoke as he moved, like he was casting a spell. And the way Michael watched and listened to him, it was almost as if he had. His voice was soothing. Relaxing. Michael shook himself out of it, frowning.

"I'm not." Michael shook his head. "You're just an asshole."

David chuckled, "keep fighting. You've still got the rest of the month to think what you want, Michael. Honestly, I'm just making sure you don't touch Star for your own good. Trust me... _you won't like it_. Not anymore."

Michael scowled, shoving past David and flipping him the bird, "fuck off, David. Just fuck right off."


	22. Chapter 22: Paul's Lesson

Author's notes: Warning that this is a somewhat naughty chapter with Star...and I'm sure you can figure out who else might be involved.

* * *

Star watched the scene unfold between David and Michael, and she couldn't honestly say she liked the subject matter. So Michael had agreed not to touch her for a whole month, and David was under the impression Michael was _his_? She'd give him a piece of her mind, if it weren't for the slight throbbing ache in her neck when she remembered what had happened the last time she'd drawn his ire. She drew a hand to the spot and brushed her fingers against the small pinpricks. And she remembered what he'd said...about mates. About dying. Was that what he'd done to Michael, then? Mated with him?

Nibbling at her bottom lip, she climbed onto the back of Paul's motorcycle and reluctantly placed her hand on his shoulders. David could say or do whatever he wanted, the fact would always remain that Michael loved _her_. And no amount of threats were going to change that. But what was she going to do? If Michael had agreed not to touch her for a month, Star could only imagine the many things that could happen in that span of time. She still hadn't even begun to understand what their true natures entailed, and certainly had no idea what was involved in the process of 'mating' someone. Was it just something you said?

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice a look exchanged between David and Dwayne, and she certainly couldn't have leaned over to catch sight of the sly grin plastered on Paul's face. If she had, she probably wouldn't have agreed to ride with _him_ anymore.

So Michael had mentioned that he couldn't touch Star. Okay. But...that didn't necesarilly mean the other way around, did it? Maybe she'd get some time with him alone in the near future...and between them, they could figure out a way to get David to leave him alone. Unfortunately, Star had forgotten one small detail. _She couldn't hide her thoughts from David._

* * *

Grandpa Emerson sighed and pushed himself back from his work table when he noticed a sliver of light born on the wooden surface and stretch out to take up the whole area.

"Yes?" He croaked, turning his head slightly but not enough to look at the person who'd opened the door to the workshop.

"Dad, will you be eating dinner with us tonight?" Lucy asked sweetly.

"Us?"

"Yes. When I picked Sam up from school early today after his...emotional meltdown..." Lucy struggled with the phrase. It didn't make any sense that Sam had acted so bizarrely at school, or that the guidance counselor had advised seeking a psychiatrist to deal with his 'issues'. Sam didn't have 'issues'. And she just couldn't seem to wrap her head around exactly what drove him to try and eat the plastic plant in the front office. "Anyway..." Lucy cleared her throat, realizing she'd trailed off into her own little thought wonderland, "when I went to pick up Sam, the Frog brothers invited themselves over to eat with us. And I know you don't like when we have guests, but I just can't find it in myself to say no to them. I'm sure you understand...I swear, they only have two outfits between them, and it honestly worries me that they aren't eating regularly."

Grandpa Emerson grunted assent. "Yeah. Just bring my food in here. Got a late work night with this possum anyways..."

Lucy nodded, with a pained smile. She knew he didn't like guests. Not since mom died. And certainly not unexpected ones...so she'd be sure to give him extra hot dog slices with his macaroni tonight. His favorite meal. She'd been planning on split pea soup originally, but the peas had gone missing. It was very odd. Maybe Nanook had knocked them over when Sam was going through the pantry, and he just didn't want her yelling at the dog. Sam tended to hide things when he thought he'd get in trouble. And he'd always been a terrible liar.

The old man turned back to his work table as his daughter departed, grunting and scratching his chin. He wasn't the happiest camper today. Seeing Michael's bike gone out in the garage had only led him to one likely conclusion, really. And if Sam's little problem wasn't solved soon, he seriously doubted he'd get any _great_ grandchildren from either of the boys. Shame, really. No one to carry on the family business...

* * *

When they arrived back at the hotel, Star skipped from the lobby to gather a few things from one of the rooms she kept her little trinkets in. Stuff she'd left behind when she thought she'd never come back: puzzles, yarn, knitting needles, magazines. Pretty much treasures to pass her time with. And as much as she was afforded, now that there was no turning back anymore, she knew she'd have to pick up more yarn soon.

Just as Michael was about to take his seat at the couch, David placed a hand on his shoulder, "Michael."

Rolling his eyes, the younger vampire turned around to face him, "what?"

"Wanna see your baby bro tonight?"

Michael raised his eyebrows in surprise, "really? I thought we were just having Thorne look after him."

David shrugged, "gotta feed him, don't we? Pretty sure he won't have time to hunt if he's busy focusing all his attention on sweet little Sammy."

A look passed between Dwayne, Paul, and Marko...making Michael scowl somewhat, "is this some kinda trick? Are you going to drag me out there just to fuck with me?"

Marko snickered, skipping up to slap a hand on Michael's back, "really, Mikey...you oughta have more faith in us. We're family. _We'd_ never fuck with you!" He paused, "...David might, but you still got a month of freedom before he hops on that gravy train," and Marko leaned over to pinch Michael's cheek to illustrate his point. The younger vampire hissed and snapped at his fingers, shoving Marko away.

"Touchy..." Marko rolled his eyes, walking off towards the lobby exit. Dwayne, who had been leaning against the wall, shoved away from it and followed the shorter member of their pack. Michael watched them leave, still a little wary, but not adverse to the idea of checking on his brother. Even if it did sorta seem out-of-the blue. He ignored a nagging feeling in the back of his mind and made to follow them, when David grabbed his shoulder again.

"What is it this time?" Michael asked, wearily.

"Your jacket smells like fish. Leave it here. I'll have Paul wash it."

"The fuck you will! He's not touching my-"

"Michael..." David repeated his name, a smile plastered on his lips, and a warning note in his voice. He leaned a bit closer to the boy's ear to whisper, "I may have agreed not to screw you eight ways till Sunday, but I can still kick your ass if you piss me off."

Michael pulled away from David, glaring as he took off his jacket, because he _did_ want to see Sam tonight, as suspicious as this whole situation seemed...and he wasn't in the mood for a fight. Maybe later. He threw the article of clothing to the ground and shoved past David, "happy?" Michael ground out, leaving the lobby.

"Very," David called after him with a chuckle, stopping to glance over at Paul and smirk at him with a nod.

"Have fun," David remarked, and Paul blew him a kiss.

* * *

Sam picked at his macaroni quietly, taking small, delicate bites. He wasn't hungry tonight. Not for this. And the way Ed and Alan kept shifting in their seats, it was like they were planning on pulling something without letting him in on it. Why were they acting so funny? Were they still weirded out because of the ant incident? The _master_ wouldn't judge him for it. The master would _approve_ of Sam's dietary choices. Why couldn't they be more like the-... _okay, Sam...get a grip on yourself._

"So, Ms. Emerson, what do you call this?" Edgar was the first to break the awkward silence.

"This? Macaroni and hot dogs, Edgar..." Lucy replied quietly, looking over at Sam with a small frown. She wanted to talk to him. She just didn't want to do it around his friends. Hopefully they didn't ask to spend the night, because she wasn't entirely certain that would be a good idea right now. Not if her youngest was having an 'emotional meltdown'.

"Ah. Right. Is that French?" Edgar leaned back in his chair, shoveling up a mouthful of food and smacking his lips. Alan sat beside him, hoovering his own meal wordlessly, as usual. Ugh! Sam just wanted to put a dog bowl on the ground for him so he didn't have to see it. Alan probably wouldn't mind, either.

"I...I don't think so. But I read somewhere that it was discovered by Marco Polo...not the cheese part, mind you. Or the hot dogs." Lucy replied, trying her best to make polite conversation, even though she'd rather not talk right now. Turning towards her son, she frowned slightly, "Sam, sweety...you've hardly touched your food."

Sam dropped his fork, "sorry...I'm not really that hungry."

"Not after that bug buffet..." Edgar grunted, spearing a slice of hot dog with his fork.

Sam scowled across the table at the gruffer Frog brother, "dude. Come on!" He whispered, giving him a good, hard kick.

"Hey!" Edgar jerked in his seat. "It's the truth! I was just telling the truth! You're a bug-eater, Sam. You're a bloodsucker's rat-sucking butt-munching minion, and your brother has a matching pair of fangs to complete the whole freaky set! Your soul is almost halfway to hell, and any minute now I just know you're gonna launch right across the table to bite my-"

"DAMN IT, ED!" Sam jumped up, grabbing his bowl and slinging it at Edgar's face.

Lucy pushed back from her seat with a gasp, tossing her napkin down, "SAMUEL EMERSON!" She shouted, standing up and crossing over to his seat to grab him by the ear. Sam cowered at the wrath of his tiny mother and bent over beside her. "You do _not_ throw food in this house, mister! And you!" Lucy rounded on Edgar, with far more command in her tone than she normally displayed. She was a very meek, quiet woman, but poor table manners and dishonesty could bring her motherly instincts raging to the forefront if need be.

Edgar slumped down, wiping half of Sam's discarded dinner off of his shirt and removing the bowl from his head, "uh...s-sorry..." he stammered, thoroughly cowed.

"Sorry isn't going to cut it! Both of you, what do you mean by 'rat-sucking...' she paused, stumbling over the word, 'bottom-munching minion'?! And...and why did he..." her voice broke when she loosened her hold on Sam's ear and looked at her youngest, "why did he say Michael had a matching pair of fangs? What did he mean by that, Sam? What aren't you telling me?!"

Alan ducked his head, reaching over the table to grab Lucy's bowl and quietly drag it towards himself. He'd stay quiet for now, and it didn't look like she'd have an appetite anymore after this little fiasco. Too bad...but hey, more food for him! So much for keeping womenfolk out of Sam's problems, though.

* * *

Star yawned, walking into the lobby with knitting needles in one hand and a small ball of yarn in the other. She paused, looking about. Where had everyone gone? They'd already been hunting for the night...she trailed through the lobby, trying to pick up their scents. But there were just too many, and she wasn't really quite used to that particular instinct yet, so they all just sort of blended together: pack, must, dust, sweat, patchouli...lots of patchouli. Why did Dwayne wear so much damned patchouli?

She jumped at the sound of springs creaking and beads clacking together, eyes drawn towards the canopied bed at the far end of the lobby. Michael's jacket was slung over the mattress, peeking out from the side, and there was a body nestled under the covers. Smiling shyly, she trailed towards the bed. Wow, talk about timing. The others must have gone out to grab something, she supposed. Knowing Michael, she wouldn't be too surprised if he'd just decided to hang back and pout on the bed. Star placed her knitting needles on the mattress and slipped out of her jacket, drawing the canopied curtain aside to climb onto the bed. Under the warm flickering glow coming from the fires in the oil barrels, the beads and golden threads that mingled with the canopy shimmered. A spell was being cast tonight, and she'd happily let its magic draw her and Michael together.

"Michael?" Star whispered, reaching towards the shape under the blanket and placing delicate fingers on his shoulder. She lowered her eyebrows in confusion. Michael felt a little more slender than he should...

"Michael?"

Paul surged up with a grin, tossing the blankets down and pulling Star in for a very sloppy kiss. She squeaked, struggling against him and beating at his shoulders, but he was fairly unyielding for someone so thin. Thin compared to Michael, at any rate.

When he finally pulled away with a saucy grin and pinned Star to the mattress, she glared up at him, "get off of me, Paul."

"C'mon momma, don't ya wanna have a little fun?" He hissed, fangs descending. And she certainly didn't like the hungry note in his voice. That was when she realized none of this could have been a coincidence. David and the others had teamed up to hand her to Paul on a silver platter. So...they'd probably heard her thoughts. Knew what she'd been planning with Michael.

If it were David, she'd be terrified right now, possibly on the verge of crying. Because she knew he was capable of, and at times very willing to kill her. But with Paul, she was just mad. Overwhelmingly, irrepressibly mad.

"Not with you," she hissed darkly, her own eyes flashing gold when she tried to draw up a slender knee to kick him the crotch, but he was too fast for her, reaching down to press her legs apart and then climbing back up to lean down and sniff at her neck. He gave her a quick lick, laughing against her skin, "you taste reaaaal good, girl."

"Yeah?" Star whispered, her hands free to search about the mattress while he kept his grip firmly on her shoulders, "somehow I doubt you do," she snapped, one hand wrapping about a knitting needle so she could bring it forward in one swift movement to slam it home deep into the side of Paul's thigh. He reeled back, howling and rolling off of her, nearly yanking the canopy from the bed to tumble over the side, but just barely managing to remain on the edge of the mattress. He reached down to grab at the needle, and while he was distracted, she released a feral growl before latching herself to his back, digging her fangs deep into his neck.

When David had bitten her, it hurt. But it had taught her not to upset or challenge him anymore. Paul struggled with Star, stumbling off of the bed even as she clung tighter, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist so he could give her an unwilling piggy back ride around the lobby, clawing behind him and digging into her lacy top. He managed to shred a good deal of the fabric in the process, and it hurt like a mother fucker when she felt claw digging deep into her flesh, but she held firm and ground her fangs deeper into his neck, drinking his blood as quickly as she could.

She'd teach him not to mess with her anymore. And maybe, by example, Dwayne and Marko would back off too. Actually, Dwayne didn't tend to do much, really, so she wasn't terribly worried about him. But Paul needed to learn to stop trying to piss her off, and that if he wanted to get his rocks off...well, he'd need to find another bitch to do it with. Not Star. No way in hell was he ever going to do it with Star.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Paul howled, stumbling and falling to his knees, though Star still held firm. She knew she was biting deeper than David had, and she knew it probably hurt a lot worse, but now that she was really getting into it...it was honestly hard to stop. A new instinct was building up and taking over, as a tingling sensation built at the base of her skull and washed down her spine, like an immense chill. She didn't really know what she was doing right now, and she insisted to herself that really...she was only teaching Paul not to mess with her. She was putting him in his place. But...

Dragging herself away from his neck, she gave the ragged wound a few good licks. It resembled the same one on Michael's neck now, she realized, though his had healed up into nothing but a nasty scar. She climbed off of Paul's back, and he fell to the ground, rolling over with a groan and staring up at the ceiling with glazed, golden eyes.

The reasoning side of Star, the side that still comprehended logic and thought, the side that told her not to do things she'd regret later...had temporarily taken leave. Soon, with very little help from Paul, who was far too exhausted from the fight, Star managed to shred his clothes and carefully remove her own. But she still didn't want to do this on the ground, so she managed to drag him (with very little effort) back to the bed, and toss him onto the mattress. Paul tried to struggle, to protest, because he was clearly pretty embarrassed right now by the way the tables had been turned on him. Star only growled at him and reeled back to slap him across the face once she'd securely straddled him.

And then, very violently, she only did what came natural to them both in their current state. Whenever Paul whimpered or struggled to try and take command, she would hiss at him and reach towards his thigh to dig the knitting needle in deeper. Later, she'd be very upset with herself. Especially when she learned exactly what she was doing, but right now there really wasn't any room for thought. And even though this might have been what Paul was aiming for in the first place, it wasn't quite playing out exactly how he'd planned...fuck, he just knew he was going to get a lot of shit for this from the boys. Michael probably wouldn't be too happy, either, come to think of it...


	23. Chapter 23: Everybody Gets a Grounding

Authors notes: So what if this is a supremely silly chapter? Sorry, not sorry.

* * *

It had taken an awful lot of convincing for Lucy to let them clean up the kitchen table and wash the dishes before addressing the network of lies by omission Sam had been keeping. But you couldn't scrub the same plate forever, and eventually Sam had to put the final dish in the plate cabinet to meet his mother in the living room. The great center of judgment from which all groundings and scoldings were delivered. Ed and Alan trailed after him, quietly. The look on Ed's face was one of regret and embarrassment. Somehow in the interim between their fight and the cleaning of the kitchen table, he managed to remember Sam's problem right now was partially his fault. Since it had been Ed's fault to even go 'hunting' on the boardwalk the night Sam met that fishy surfing bastard.

Lucy sat on a couch, and to Sam's surprise, so did grandpa. They looked as if they'd been talking before the boys arrived, and Lucy jerked up just in time to catch the look of utter shame on her youngest son's face. A cascade of emotions washed over her face, each one making him feel worse than the last, as she signaled for all three boys to take their seats on the other couch together. It was only slightly larger than a love seat, so between them they had a pretty tight fit.

"Sam. Your grandpa told me someone came by to pick up Michael's bike. Was it him?"

Sam looked down at his feet and idly plucked at his jeans, refusing to make eye contact with her, "yeah."

"Was that when you found out?" She continued, though it didn't sound like she really needed Sam's answer. She already knew it.

"Yeah."

"And another boy broke into our house a few days ago, then he made you drink his blood...is that true?"

Sam looked up angrily at his grandpa, who wore a very solid mask of indifference. But at least it saved him the trouble of going through the 'master' story again. Hearing that word come out of his mouth a dozen times might upset Lucy even more, come to think of it. "Yeah, mom."

"Okay. I see." Lucy sighed, rubbing at her temples, "what did you plan on doing, then, if your brother came back to kill us?"

Sam jerked up at that, mouth fluttering, "Mike wouldn't do that! He...I mean, he almost killed me...but that was cause he didn't know it was-"

"Sam. If he didn't plan to kill us, then why couldn't you just tell me the truth about him? Did you honestly think it was better to let me go on thinking he was still running, possibly even dead? Was that really a better plan?" Lucy's voice wavered, and it was like she'd taken an industrial grade shovel to pile the guilt onto his shoulders. When she put it _that_ way, he felt like a real asshole.

"But Mike didn't want me to tell you!" He finally managed to protest, deflecting. Shifting just a little of the blame on his brother, who hadn't even left him an idea for a convincing lie about the bike, anyway. Though...he could have just said Mike sold it and some guy came by to pick it up. _Damn_ , he probably still could've said that just now and gotten away with it...

"Of course he didn't! But I'm his mother! I have the right to know if my baby is dead or alive!" Lucy thundered, and it was quite an astonishing sound coming from the woman who raised her voice so rarely, she was often mistaken for a bird if she tried to get a person's attention when they couldn't see her.

"Okay...you're right, mom. I'm sorry."

"We tried to tell him, Ms. Emerson..." Edgar interrupted, shaking his head.

"Edgar Frog, you've caused enough trouble. I don't want to hear another _word_ from you right now. Dad told me how you boys both agreed to try your hands at monster hunting on the boardwalk. Well, now look where it's gotten you! My son is eating bugs! And...apparently gold fish, too!"

"How much did you tell him?!" Edgar rounded on Sam.

"How much did you tell her?!" Sam rounded on his grandpa, who was again...un-phased.

"Watch your mouth, boy." The old man grumbled. "Your dog won't even go near your room. You think I could just sit by and let Lucy worry herself sick after what she told me you did at school today?"

"And you!" Lucy rounded on her own father, "you should have told me sooner!"

Grandpa Emerson balked, "Lucy, I was trying-"

"I don't want to hear it. Not from _any_ of you." Lucy held up her hands and stood up, taking a deep breath. "I need to be alone right now. Edgar, Alan, call your father to come pick you up. I think it's best if you don't see Sam for awhile. Sam, you're grounded. Indefinitely. And next time you see your brother, he is too. I don't care if he doesn't live with me anymore, I don't care if he drinks blood, I don't _care_ if he thinks he can just make up lies to keep me 'safe' from the big bad world out there. In fact..." she pointed her finger at all of them, including her own father, "you're all grounded!"

"Lucy!" Grandpa Emerson exclaimed, "I'm your-"

" **Go to your room, dad!** " Lucy demanded, turning away from him and striding from the room.

Edgar and Alan stared at Sam, dumbfounded. "...Can she do that?" Edgar asked, surprised.

Sam watched her leave and lowered his head, "after what we did? Yeah...I think she can."

Grandpa Emerson scratched his chin, "just like her mother sometimes. Glad I didn't bring up that hell hound stalking around the house outside."

Sam's eyes grew wide, " _what?!_ "

* * *

"He eats _people_?!" Michael exclaimed as they climbed off of their bikes and started to head for the hotel, having grabbed and delivered Thorne's meal. He still couldn't believe it. He'd just assumed kibble or something would work. But at least this explained how Max had managed to live in a house so long, no one getting suspicious about bodies popping up everywhere he went. Thorne was like a vampire garbage disposal!

"People. Dogs. Cats. Bats. Rats. Anything, really. But yeah, he prefers humans. Kinda the diet Max had him on...good for his coat," Marko replied, skipping past Michael. They all seemed to be walking pretty fast, he noticed, as if they were anxious to get back home. Michael looked up at the sky and frowned...they had a long time until sunrise, so it couldn't be that particular problem.

Dwayne pressed his hands over Michael's shoulders, pushing him ahead, "come on. Got a surprise for you," he stated quietly, and boy did Michael dislike the tone in his voice. There was something going on here, and he didn't like it. What was going on?

His eyes trailed towards David for answers, but the leader was tight-lipped and smirking. That was enough for him to figure out he wasn't going to like whatever this 'surprise' was.

* * *

Star's eyes fluttered open. She felt...amazing. Almost as good as she did right after a kill, though not quite. It was incredible. And she felt...strong. It was hard to describe. It was like all of the nervousness and the fears that had governed her since she first met David had melted away, and what remained was something far more dangerous and predatory than she ever thought she could be. But...

She squinted, rubbing at her eyes and sitting up in bed. She felt a blanket fall away from her bare chest and looked down, struggling to recall exactly why she felt this way. The boys had left...she'd gone to her 'room' to grab some yarn and knitting needles...she came back, and Michael's jacket was on the bed. Michael was...no, not Michael...her eyes widened, almost comically, and she turned her head towards the other side of the mattress to find...with no small measure of horror...a very satisfied and dazed-looking Paul. The knitting needle still firmly jammed in his thigh...

"Oh no..." Star put her head in her hands and leaned down. What was _wrong_ with her?! She should have _killed_ Paul, not-...well... _that_!

Then David's words came back to her mind, and the pieces began to struggle to come together. Mating. He said Michael was his. Michael... _was_...his. He had the bite to prove it. And hadn't she gone sex mad after she gave the same kind of bite to Paul?

"You...asshole!" Star reached down to yank the knitting needle out of Paul's thigh. He screamed, jerking up to rub at his bleeding wound, no longer dazed, but very much awake as he let forth a stream of curses.

"Fuck! Why did you do that?!" He demanded, blood still sluggishly dripping from the offended area even as the flesh finally began to close.

"You...you raped me!"

" _I_ raped _you_?!" Paul exclaimed, leaning back in shock, "girl, you nearly killed me! And what do you think this is, huh?!" Paul indicated the huge scar on his neck Star had made, "it's not a hickey. That's for fucking sure!"

Star brandished the knitting needle, putting a hand on the back of Paul's neck and snarling as she pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. She wouldn't have been this aggressive before, but things were a lot different now after that little insane romp in the sack. She knew it. Paul knew it. Whatever mating entailed, it had changed her even more. She could hardly even remember what she'd been like when she was human, now, as many alterations to her personality and body had taken place. And it was like the memories were racing away from her with the passing hours. _That_ made her even angrier. And since the object of her current rage was right in front of her, Star didn't see why she shouldn't take _that_ out on him too.

"I told you to stop messing with me, Paul! You knew I didn't want this! You knew I didn't want _you_!"

Paul huffed against her face, "well...too late now. Should've kept your mouth shut," he retorted.

Star was very tempted to shove the knitting needle back in the same spot she'd stabbed him with in the first place, but restrained herself. Just barely. "Take it back. Reverse it. Cancel it. Do something!"

"I can't," Paul shrugged helplessly, though she doubted he really gave a fuck. There was no hiding that stupid grin of his. Ugh...of all the idiots in the pack to inadvertently mate with, why did it have to be _Paul_?!

"Besides," he continued, "it's not like you and Mikey can fool around anymore, anyway. Davey wouldn't put up with that. And you know what? I bet if you saw me picking up a skank on the boardwalk, you'd tear her throat out before I even got to first base. Like it or not, girl, you got it for me _bad_ now. I'm yours. You're mine. Mikey's Davids. David's Mikeys. End. Of. Story."

Star pushed him away and threw her legs over the side of the mattress, knitting needle still firmly gripped in her fist, "you're never touching me again, you understand? _Never_." She hissed over her shoulder, and just as she was about to stand up to fetch her clothes from the middle of the lobby, the others filtered into the room. First Marko. Then David...then Michael, practically being shoved ahead of Dwayne.

She squeaked, snatching up the sheet and wrapping it about herself, tucking the top together to form a make-shift wrap dress before scrambling away from the bed.

"Hey!" Paul called out, grabbing a pillow to cover his crotch and quickly shuffle after her.

As the Lost Boys turned to face them, Star just barely managed to dive behind the couch and hide herself before the boys noticed her, but Paul was still in plain view.

David raised an eyebrow, looking him over, eyes lingering on the scar. The scar he'd expected to see on Star...not Paul.

He smirked, _"you...are a dumb fuck."_

Marko hopped up beside Paul and stared at his neck with wide eyes, _"maaaaan..."_ he poked at the scar, _"she musta owned your ass good, Paulie!"_

Michael stared at him, frowning. "Why are you naked?" He paused. "What happened to your neck?" His eyes flit back and forth between the boys, "WHERE'S STAR?!" Dwayne kept a firm grip on Michael's shoulders, just in case his fists decided to do the talking (as usual) before anyone else did.

Star's head slowly peeked out from behind the couch, eyes guiltily refusing to meet his own, "...Michael...I've got something to tell you..." She squeaked, putting a hand on her mouth, and giving her very best sob, "Paul raped me!" She managed to sound even more upset than she really was.

"WHAT?!" Paul exclaimed, stepping back and lifting up the pillow to cover his face in case Michael punched him...then lowered it again back to his crotch...then his face...then his crotch. He had a hard time deciding which one he wanted to protect more.

Michael jerked his shoulders out of Dwayne's grasp, and frankly, this was going to be way too funny for him to bother holding onto the younger vampire, anyway. "You..." Michael hissed, eyes glowing gold.

"Hold on, now, Mikey...she raped _me_! I swear! I'm the victim here! Look at my neck!" He shouldn't be panicking this much. He could easily take Michael on in a fight...he was older, stronger, faster...and naked. That last one really didn't help...


	24. Chapter 24: The Observatory

Authors notes: Shane needed some story-time. It's been a few chapters. Also, yes...he is a cringe-worthy dumb villain right now.

* * *

Shane perched on the roof of his kingdom, his little nest, and nursed a beer while he watched the clouds above consume the moon. He had a massive headache tonight, and the newbies still hadn't gotten back from their first solo hunt. It was worse than the headache he had the night before, when Dawson didn't show up at the nest before sunrise. He didn't really know what any of this meant, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to see any of them again. Maybe it even had something to do with the headache.

"Shane?" A whispery voice interrupted his thoughts, and he looked over his shoulder, using the free hand that wasn't caressing his half-empty beer bottle to lower his sunglasses. It was one of his older fledglings, one of the first. Not a surfer...just some high school freshman Shane found on the boardwalk when he was peckish. But useful enough. Small. Pretty good for keeping an eye on things without being noticed.

"Shane...we went to check on the slave...there's a very vicious dog there."

Shane quirked an eyebrow, "I threw that dumb husky out of the door when I went to pick the kid up last time. What's the big deal?"

"It wasn't a husky."

He frowned, "you mean he got another guard dog?" Shane took another swig of his beer and turned forward again, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh, "if he thinks that's gonna save him Friday night when I pick him up, he's got another thing coming." He laughed, and it was a very dry sound. "Gotta have someone wax my board." Pausing, Shane licked his lips, "my surf board. That wasn't an innuendo."

His childe crawled forward on the roof, skittering like a crab, "there's...something else..."

"...What is it?" Shane took another swallow of beer. Pretty shitty stuff. The cheap shit that took a normal person a six-pack to get a buzz from.

"We saw...others there...outside. Bikers."

"Bikers?"

"Yes..." his childe licked his lips, "and they wore earrings."

Shane frowned, tossing his beer bottle towards the horizon and watching it settle into the water with a loud ' _ **plop**_!'

"Tommy, I want you to get some tickets for the contest. If you see them on the boardwalk tomorrow, give them the tickets," he paused, "it'll be nice to see my extended family. Show them who runs this city now."

The younger vampire wondered whether he should mention the corpse they'd fed the dog, but decided to remain quiet. Frankly, he was seriously beginning to reconsider whether he really wanted to be part of this nest anymore. This 'nest' thing was getting way too crowded. He wouldn't ever dare tell his master, but he definitely thought Shane was a little greedy. And sleeping in an old ocean observatory that got shut down back in the 60s was a little weird.

* * *

Before Michael could lash out at him, Paul was off like a rocket, dashing to the lobby wall and scaling it, kicking bits of rock and dirt down behind him as he climbed. He was too sore right now for a real fight, and without even a scrap of cloth to cover his sensitive parts, far too vulnerable for comfort. It wasn't easy climbing a wall with one arm focused on keeping a pillow over your crotch.

Michael growled behind him, having some difficulty following, as he hadn't yet learned the fine art of defying gravity. Nothing beyond simple flight, at any rate. Still, anger and instinct drove him on to follow, and by the time Paul was latched to the ceiling, the younger vampire had capably managed to catch up to him.

Paul shrieked, pelting Michael with his pillow, and drawing his claws. Fine. If they were going to fight about this, so be it. The fact of the matter remained that Star was his now, and nothing was going to change that. "Okay, fine! You wanna fight, bring it!" Paul crouched in a fighting stance, hissing at Michael as he approached. In a flash, they were rolling about on the ceiling, scratching and growling. Blood dripped to the ground from the deep gauges they made in each other, and the others watched with mild amusement. Though, granted, Star was a little bit more horrified. What had she _done_?

David cast his eyes back towards Star, pulling a cigarette from his pack and crossing to the couch so he could lean over and offer it to her. He had to admit, this definitely wasn't how he saw the night going. "Nice going. Didn't know you had it in you," he remarked as she took the cigarette from him with a shaking hand. He pulled out a match and lit it for her as she held it to her lips.

"Do you think he'll be mad at me?" Star asked, glancing back up at Michael, who'd managed to dislodge himself from Paul and was now dragging the screaming, kicking vampire across the ceiling by his blonde mane.

"Which one?" David snorted, pulling out another cigarette for himself. When Star had been plotting her seduction of Michael outside, Paul had been more than happy to foil her plans. But there was no way any of them could have predicted _her_ getting the upper hand. Sure, maybe not quite in the same way she would have wanted, but still...once she and Michael finally learned to let themselves go, she'd realize this really was the best way things could have turned out for her. Because even if she'd somehow managed to get Michael into bed instead, David would have killed her.

"Michael," Star replied, taking a pull from the cigarette. The burning smoke that filled her lungs was the perfect way to end a night of carnage and reluctant animal sex. No wonder people always smoked after screwing in the movies. It just made so much sense.

David shrugged, "I don't really care. You shouldn't either," he patted her cheek condescendingly. And if it were anyone other than David, she'd have bitten his hand.

* * *

 _"How long are we going to watch this?"_ Dwayne glanced up at the fight and then back at David, who'd crossed towards his wheelchair to flop down in a satisfied heap. He was having a very good night. And while he definitely didn't want Paul dead, he very much enjoyed watching Michael lose control. As long as it wasn't focused on attacking _him_.

 _"Until they wear themselves out,"_ David shrugged.

 _"You mean until Mikey wears himself out?"_ Marko poked David from behind, leaning over the back of his wheelchair. So far, Paul looked like he'd just about had it with the fighting, and was hardly putting up much of a fight anymore when Michael drug him back down along the side of the wall, leaving red streaks behind him on the rock. It was like an impossibly gruesome graffiti, and Paul was the brush.

 _"He's bluffing,"_ Dwayne decided.

 _"Wanna bet?"_ Marko grinned wildly when they'd reached the ground, and Michael released his hold on Paul's hair. Honestly, he looked like he'd already burnt out most of his angry energy from the fight, and was just about ready to give Paul one final kick, when suddenly the slender vampire jumped up and clawed at his face with more rage than any of them thought he had in him. When Paul pulled back to slam against the wall and slide down to the ground in an exhausted heap, Michael was howling and nursing a gauged eye socket and shredded cheek.

Marko paused, " _never mind."_

* * *

Sam stood outside of his mom's bedroom door, hand hovering over the knob. He knew he should probably talk to her. Say something. Do his best to explain everything from his point-of-view. But...the way she'd looked at him before she fled the living room. That look of...disappointment...honestly, it was worse than anger. It would be so much easier to just turn around and go to his room. Just...spend the night with nightmares (or dreams) about bugs and small animals, thoughts about the master, and perhaps even waking up in the morning completely insane and devoted to Shane with no memories of what it had been like before the fish crackers.

But just because it was easy, god help him, didn't mean it was right.

"Mom?" Sam called, testing the door handle. It twisted easily, as he poked his head inside. Lucy sat on the top of her bed-covers, hands clasped over her lap, as she stared ahead at the wall.

"Mom?" Sam repeated, nibbling at his bottom lip.

"Come in, Sam," Lucy sighed, turning to look at him.

"I'm sorry..." Sam came into the room and closed the door behind him, pressing his hands against his back and sheepishly staring down at his feet.

"I know you are," Lucy replied, gesturing to the other side of the bed, "you were just trying to protect me..."

Sam eagerly shuffled across the room and threw himself onto the bed, quickly leaning his head on his mother's shoulder like a small child, "I didn't wanna hurt you mom. Honest. I was just afraid..."

"I'm your mother, Sam. I'm supposed to be scared for you, not the other way around," Lucy whispered, pressing her lips to his forehead. "But you're still grounded," she added with a small laugh as he jerked away from her and pouted.


	25. Chapter 25: Heart to Heart

Michael lowered his hands, revealing his half-mutilated face, and blinking his one remaining golden eye down at Paul. " **You _mother fu-_** " he was just about ready for another round, when David reached forward to grab his arms and pin them behind his back.

"Let me go!" Michael spat and hissed, kicking his legs out as David dragged him away from Paul, who looked like he was just about ready to lose consciousness and was simultaneously very pleased with himself.

"Calm down, Michael. Do you want to kill him?" David asked dryly, keeping Michael held close to his chest with a vice-like grip. Try as he might, after the fight with Paul especially, there was no breaking it. But still, he gave a few more kicks and growls for good measure until he finally relented and slumped in David's grasp, head hanging low.

"You need to learn some breathing exercises, Mikey," Marko grinned as he spoke, approaching Paul and kneeling down to poke at the other vampire's face. Paul cracked his eyes open and hissed at him, not in the mood to be messed with at the moment, after practically getting his ass handed to him on a platter.

"Aw, Paulie not feeling good? Tell me...which was worse, having Star beat the shit out of you and make you her bitch...or Mikey just barely managing to do the same thing? Huh?" Marko cackled, stumbling back when Paul tried to lash out at him and give the smaller pack member an injury to match Michael's. But he didn't have enough steam left in him to do much, and only managed to lazily slash his hand through the air before letting it drop down beside him with a weary grunt.

"What do you mean by that?" Michael lifted his head and glared over at Marko, and then back down at Paul, confused.

"Look at her, does she look like she just got raped?" Dwayne asked as David finally released his childe so Michael could turn towards Star, who was sitting meekly at the couch now fiddling with a cigarette between her knees and refusing to meet his gaze. She looked flawless. Unmarred. What's more, there was a slight blush creeping from her bare neck to her cheeks, and that was what ultimately clued him in.

"Star? What do they mean by that?" Michael demanded, raising a hand to cover his wounded face again. It wasn't healing very fast, and especially not after the scuffle on the ceiling. He'd need more blood soon, and he could already feel a deep lethargy washing over him while his body struggled to recover.

"I..." Star looked up at him with a guilty frown, "I'm sorry, Michael. I couldn't help myself. I just...he attacked me, and I lost control, and then I was...doing stuff with him. And I didn't know why or what I was doing until it was all over...and...when you came back, I didn't know what else to say!"

He couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe she'd...well, for one, apparently banged the hell out of Paul, judging by that scar on his neck and the lack of a real fight he'd put up on the ceiling...but for another, the fact that she'd basically acted like some kind of manipulative bitch by lying to him like that! And if it were anyone else, he'd give her a piece of his mind for playing that sick game with him. But this was Star. The one person right now who he thought he could wholeheartedly trust and believe in. It almost hurt more than the gauged-out eye.

It was like tossing a match on a kerosene drenched stack of newspapers. The anger burned fast, strong, and quick. And now...it was gone. All that was left were the blackened remains. The ash. The scraps. He felt hollow. "Star..." Michael just shook his head, running his hands through his hair. "I can't talk to you right now." He backed away from her, and glared around at the others, who were watching his breakdown with morbid curiosity. They wanted to know what he'd do next. See who he'd lash out at. They'd wanted this to happen tonight...that was the whole reason they'd gone to feed Thorne. This wasn't just about Star or Paul. And here he'd thought most of the mind games were finally over.

Michael snorted in disgust, striding out of the lobby towards some unseen destination deep within the heart of the sunken hotel, and refusing to look at or speak to any of them. He honestly had nothing left to say, and no punches left to throw. And here he'd thought dying should somehow get rid of most of his emotional teenage hormones. Some things just never changed.

* * *

Marko flopped down on the couch beside Star, watching Michael leave with a raised eyebrow, "damn, _think we pushed him too far?"_

Dwayne shrugged, _"didn't honestly think he'd be happy about Paul's little plan."_

 _"Speaking of which, Paul, how bad do you have to fuck up for Star to own your ass, of all people? Seriously."_ David knelt beside the semi-conscious vampire, lifting up an arm and inspecting his injuries. He'd need some blood pretty soon, or it was going to be one hell of a day trying to sleep. He didn't look like he'd have the strength to hang for more than five minutes.

 _"She had knitting needles! She cheated!"_ Paul insisted groggily, his head lolling up so he could make grumpy eye contact with the pack leader.

"Star," David called towards her, and she looked at them both guiltily. The emotional thoughts rushing through her mind right now were enough to make David roll his eyes in overdrive if he didn't know it would only make her even more ridiculously melodramatic. He did not miss being as young as them, that was for fucking sure. Always sad or upset about one thing or another, never looking at the big picture. It was getting on his nerves.

"What do you want, David?" Star asked quietly, and if he didn't know better, he'd think there was a bit of attitude sneaking into her tone. But surely she'd learned not to talk back to him by now.

"You broke it. You fix it," he snapped at her, "owning a Paulie is a lot of responsibility. You've got to feed them, water them, take them out for walks..."

"Fuck you," Paul slurred up at David, irritated. "She just got lucky."

"Lucky?!" Star asked, incredulous, even as she stood up to cross towards David.

"Have your little bitch fit with each other later. Star. Feed him," there was no hint of warning in his tone, but there also wasn't any room for argument. Star glanced towards Paul and then back up at David warily, gauging whether or not it was worth getting her neck snapped by disobeying his orders. But her will to survive had gotten entirely too strong as of late for her to risk it, so she simply gave him a curt not and slid towards the cave wall to kneel beside Paul, holding out her wrist in front of his face. He didn't need to be told twice. She flinched when she felt the sharp pain in her wrist, but didn't react otherwise. It didn't hurt as much as it had when David gave her his warning out in the field with only a scarecrow as a witness to the proceedings between them. Nor did it hurt as much as it had when she'd been drained to the point of near-death before she and Michael had made their fateful agreement at the bar.

Honestly, she didn't want to admit it...but it felt kind of nice.

David patted her on the head, before turning away to head in the direction Michael had gone, "have fun, kids. Got a few things I have to deal with before bed," he called behind him.

Dwayne crossed towards the couch and flopped down beside Marko, watching him depart.

"Everyone's getting mated these days. Kinda makes me feel left out," Marko mused. He looked at Dwayne. Dwayne looked at him. They both gagged.

"Not in a thousand years, Marko," Dwayne shook his head.

"Yeah. Don't worry. I'm saving my sweet little ass for someone with tits, thanks," Marko sneered.

"I'm saving mine for someone with a brain," Dwayne replied dryly, punching Marko's shoulder.

* * *

Michael sat with his legs dangling over the chasm they'd made their new sleeping quarters. Below were gigantic chunks of shattered foundation, stained brown and black by several decades of water dripping down through it, as well as several pipes embedded on various levels stretching below. It didn't look like the most comfortable place to sleep, but it had been just fine for their purposes. He dropped a small pebble into the chasm and listened to it click against the walls until the sound faded into the distance. He didn't really know how deep it went, but he supposed he could find out if he really wanted to.

Right now, he just wanted to turn his brain off. He wanted to forget about the last week as if it had never happened. And frankly, thanks to Stars little episode tonight, he wanted to forget about the last two years too. Funny thing, though, he really was beginning to. Not entirely, mind you, but the specifics were becoming a little fuzzy. He couldn't remember what he'd worn last Friday, or the name of the waitress at their favorite dive they'd found in Louisianna and went back to every time they cruised through. His memory had never been this bad before. It was kind of scary, trying to think about it too much. Did it have something to do with being dead? Was he eventually going to forget more stuff? The important things? Family?

He threw his head back with a frown, fully planning to scowl up at the ceiling, but instead finding his one good eye meeting the gaze of two very amused ones above him...belonging to none other than one of the very last few people he wanted to see at this exact moment.

"What do you want?" Michael grumbled, looking back down at his lap and picking up another pebble to throw into the chasm.

"Mind if I join you?" David asked, dropping down beside him. Michael snorted. Fucker didn't even wait for his answer.

"I don't get any of this," Michael sighed, leaning back on his elbows.

"What?"

"I don't get any of this," he repeated.

"What's to get?" David asked quietly, grabbing a pebble of his own to drop into the chasm. "I've already told you everything. _You_ think too much."

Michael snorted, "first time I've heard anyone say _that_."

The pack leader turned to look down at Michael, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. With all his anger burnt out tonight, he was fairly mellow now. Kinda like he was when they'd just barely met, after the punch and before the bridge. Taunting, torturing, fighting aside...this really was how David preferred him. Much funner to be around in the long run.

"Okay, I admit we all went a little too far tonight. Didn't think you'd get that worked up about it," David smirked, staring back down into the chasm and dropping another pebble.

Michael shifted beside him and glared up at his master, a slight frown on his lips, "you manage to somehow get the love of my life to fuck an idiot, and then she tries to make me kill him...and you don't think just maybe I've got a reason to flip my shit about it? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"...'love of your life'? Really, Michael? You two barely did more than cuddle and pet for two years, but now suddenly she's the 'love of your life'?"

Michael scowled, "technically, yeah. I died, and I was in love with her. Therefore: love of my life."

David laughed, "nice logic, there. So...by your reasoning...the whore I used to see on Bussey street for my weekly handies every Sunday was my soulmate. I guess that Clap she gave me was a poignant love letter. Get the fuck over yourself, Michael. If she was really that important, you'd have done a lot more to protect her when we came chasing after you two."

The younger vampire's healing socket seemed to twitch with a raw nerve, and he was amazed to discover there was still some level of irritation David could pull out of him, even when it seemed practically impossible. "I did my best."

"And here we are," David spread his arms wide, "just me and you."

"What do you want, David?" Michael sighed, sitting up and getting prepared to stand and find another room if he had to, if it meant getting away from him. David reached out and grabbed Michael's neck, pulling him close.

"Drink," he ordered, pressing Michael's face to his throat.

" _What?!_ " the younger vampire exclaimed, trying to struggle and push him away.

"You've got a lot of healing to do tonight, if you don't want a massive headache in the evening. Drink. If you wake up tomorrow hungry, you're not gonna be too picky about who you try to eat. If your little brother shows up here looking for help, I'm not stopping you from chowing down. So do it now, and you won't have anything to regret later."

"You son of a..." Michael grumbled in a muffled voice against David's neck as he dug his teeth deep into his master's flesh. It was liquid fire, infusing him from the very center of his being. Not like that awful coffee he'd bought from the gas station, nor like the 'wine' he'd had when he first met David, nor even like human blood...which admittedly, was pretty damned good on its own. This was even better. And he hated to admit it, but drinking from his master's neck right now made him want to do other much more intimate things...he stubbornly forced them from his mind. Whether he was saving himself for Star anymore or not, he still didn't want a damned thing to do with another guy...and definitely not David. _Never_ David.

A sly smirk spread across the blonde's face as he closed his eyes and ran his fingers calmly through his mate's hair. Sooner or later, Michael would crave these moments. And the more he could be forced to drink, the quicker it would come to pass.

And when everyone finally turned in to sleep that morning, Star didn't realize she was closer to Paul than David. Nor did Michael notice he'd somehow ended up sleeping right beside his master, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

* * *

Authors notes: Damn. How did all that angst sneak in here? Ah well. Teenagers = dramatic. Vampire teenagers = apparently 10x worse. Just to clarify, there is no way in hell I'd ever pair Marko with Dwayne. So just get that out of your head right now.


	26. Chapter 26: The Mission

Authors notes: I try to make the Frogs do something simple. Just sneak to the house and talk to Sam...but no, they just weren't making this easy on me.

* * *

"I don't think you should go to school today," Lucy decided, setting her coffee down with a soft click in front of her as Sam came back to the table with a bowl and spoon in hand. The milk and cereal were already set out, ready for him to prepare his breakfast. He was starving, but not really for...this. Still, it was better than the alternative. Well actually, it didn't even seem like it anymore. He looked longingly out the kitchen window and imagined the countless earthworms squirming beneath Lucy's rose garden she'd planted the past summer, and shook his head. Whether he wanted it or not, he still knew...he still _knew_ he would be grossed out if he wasn't going crazy. It was just getting a little harder to grasp.

How did that old song go? ' _The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out..._ '...he unconsciously began to hum it even as he poured cheerios into his bowl and looked up at Lucy from across the table. She didn't look happy. Hadn't looked happy since she'd found out about the small network of details about him and Mike he'd kept secret from her. It would be a long time before she completely trusted him again, if he made it through this. Grandpa said it would only take a few weeks for the blood to flush out of his system. And...Mike said he'd help him. Maybe, before, it wouldn't have done much good. But now that his brother was a shit-sucker too, and maybe even on good terms with the rest of the assholes they'd tried to nail (unsuccessfully)...he was probably a lot more capable of it.

And there was still that part of him, the part that was growing even stronger, who wanted to sabotage his plans of escaping Shane's powers. It was the part completely content with his new 'destiny to serve the master' in any and every way. Sam seriously hoped there were limits to that need, actually. Some things were even worse than eating bugs, and even more so now that he'd officially shed any kind of distaste for the diet.

"Sam?" Lucy waved a hand in front of her youngest son's face, and he jerked up, realizing he'd begun to pour milk over the side of his bowl.

"Ah...shit..."

"Sam!"

"I'm sorry. I meant...shoot..." Sam mumbled, trying to wipe the bit of milk off of the table with his palm, and then yanking at his pajama sleeve to soak the rest of it up. He didn't want to expend the energy of crossing all the way over to the kitchen counter to grab a towel. Lucy glared at him for his poor table manners, but didn't say anything as he finally sat down to start eating breakfast.

"Sam. I don't think you should go to school today." She crossed her arms, "frankly, I'm wondering whether I should take off work. I think I should take you to a doctor, see if they've got a few ideas on how to deal with this little problem of yours."

"Mom, they're not gonna believe...anything we tell them," he shook his head, "and I don't think I wanna find a doctor who does. Grandpa said if I just stay away from the master for a few weeks, don't drink any more of his blood, I'll be fine..."

"Sam. Don't call him that."

"I can't help it," Sam frowned, nibbling at his lower lip. "Trust me, I'd call him something else if I could..."

Lucy picked up her coffee cup again, "okay. But I still want you staying home today. Until we figure out...something a little bit faster. If dad was right about what he told me, he said it's only going to get much worse for you before it gets better." Good lord, there were some days she really wished she'd never divorced Jack. Even if he was a miserable excuse for a husband, and a neglectful father. Two years. Not one phone call. But at least if she'd stayed in Phoenix...Lucy shook her head and sighed. It didn't do any good to wish in one hand. What was done was done...

And Michael...oh, her poor babies. She had to find out if he was okay, or at least...she had to see him. Even if it only confirmed that he _wasn't_ Michael anymore. Perhaps she could check the video store that...

Even _thinking_ about his name gave her chills. But that was where she'd first seen those awful boys...maybe they'd be in that area tonight. If not, she could ask around. Michael couldn't avoid her forever. No matter what, she was still his mother.

Suddenly, Sam gave a loud yell and threw his bowl of cereal against the kitchen wall. Lucy recoiled from the table in shock as she watched the shattered pieces of china fly away from the soggy milk and cheerios clinging to the wallpaper.

 **"SAM! WHAT ON EARTH-?!"**

 **"EYEBALLS, MOM! THEY WERE EYEBALLS! ONE OF THEM WINKED AT ME!"** Sam squeaked, drawing his legs up to his chest and rocking in his chair.

Lucy let out a deep sigh and placed her coffee cup back on the table. "Get some sleep, sweety. _Please_."

* * *

Alan crouched in the rose bushes, war paint streaking his cheeks, walkie pressed close to his face.

"Rambo to Batman. Come in, Batman. Over." He wasn't yelling this time, because Lucy was just now leaving the house and walking by. It wouldn't do him any good if she overheard him on his mission: 'O.G.C.K.T.F.U.A.H.H.S.E.W.C.S.W.C.K.H.B.' or 'Operation Get Clark Kent to Forgive Us And Help Him Stop Eating Weird Crap So We Can Keep Hunting Bloodsuckers'. Eds idea, not Alans. Alan preferred the much simpler title: 'T.T.C.A.A.', or 'Talk To Clark And Apologize'. Either way, they couldn't just ditch him now in his hour of need. Plus, neither of the Frog brothers really believed the shit-sucking Emerson would really be of any help. Bloodsuckers didn't eat other bloodsuckers. It just wasn't done.

" **BATMAN TO RAMBO. PERIMETERS AROUND THE BACK OF EMERSON DOMICILE ARE CLEAR. OVER.** " Alan flinched, pressing a hand over the walkie to muffle Ed's voice just in case Lucy overheard them while she climbed into her car. Luckily, she didn't. Her mind looked like it was on a different planet right now.

In favor of not having Sam freak out when they showed up, because neither Frog brother thought even for a moment that he'd be at school today, Ed was hiding in the backyard. Luckily for them, Thorne kept guard at the cave during the day...or their innards would already be painting the lawn. Because Ed was the one who dropped the bomb, Alan was the one who was going to try and talk Sam down first once they managed to get his attention. There was no telling how insane he'd be right now, given the gross fish-vampire blood running through his veins, tainting his soul and body odor in one fell swoop.

"Rambo to Batman, I am now approaching the enemy...the front lines...if I don't make it, tell mom I never liked her crappy sunflower loaf. Over," Alan called into the walkie as Lucy drove away, taking a deep breath and tucking his knees in close so he could roll out from his hiding space in the rose bushes. He bit his tongue and had a deep intake of breath at the feel of thorns plucking his skin and clothes, cursing himself for not being more careful.

Crouching low, he looked about and tucked the walkie into his mouth, throwing himself onto his stomach and beginning the long, arduous belly crawl towards the front porch. It was so real, this war game of his, he could practically feel the sting of enemy bullets flying overhead. Oh...no...wait...that was a bee...

"BEE?!" Alan shrieked, climbing to his feet and dropping his walkie as he frantically beat at his ears, trying to chase the offending insect away. This only served to anger the pollen-sucker, however, because soon he was whimpering and stumbling to the porch with a swollen earlobe, " **BATMAN. BATMAN, I'VE BEEN HIT!** " He called out into his walke once he'd managed to snatch it up and press it to his mouth. " **OVER!** " He added as an after-thought.

In the distance, he heard the guttural shout of his brother, and only hoped Ed hadn't fallen into similar buggy clutches. The world was spinning...going faint...

"Alan. What are you doing?" Sam's voice interrupted Alan's death throes, and he jerked up to see the youngest Emerson standing in the doorway, looking both confused and...hungry...

"DON'T HURT ME!" Alan shouted, falling back and kicking his feet out, forgetting he was on the porch steps, and nearly breaking his neck as he tumbled down into the yard. Just then, Edgar came barreling around the side of the house, yelling at the top of his voice. He was dripping with some kind of horrible sticky mess. Somehow, the gruffer Frog brother had managed to trip and fall face-forward into the hive.

Sam rushed towards Ed, and he shrieked again, thinking his 'former friend' had somehow shifted into something far more dangerous than a mindless shit-sucker's butt monkey...when suddenly, the boys hands darted out like the karate kid on speed, catching bees by the handful and shoving them quickly into his mouth.

Alans face turned green as he watched in horror and fascination...

* * *

Grandpa Emerson pushed himself away from his work table and stood up, sighing. Nanook was fitfully sleeping beside his stool, having god knew what kind of nightmares a traumatized husky could after having multiple run-ins with vampires and melodramatic teenage boys.

"Wanna go see what that noise out there is?" He rasped, kneeling down to shake the dog awake. Nanook whined in response and kicked his paws out at the air.

"Yeah. You're right. Me neither." The old man replied with a gruff laugh, sitting back on his stool and resuming his work. Sometimes it was much easier to just ignore chaos when it came knocking at your door. That way, your middle aged daughter didn't get it in her head to ground you even longer.

* * *

Sam licked his lips, wincing at the intense sting of his inner cheeks and the bottom side of his tongue, where the bees who fell victim to his appetite had gotten their final bit of fight in before expiring. Still...totally worth it. At least he could think straight now, with so many little lives buzzing around in his stomach.

Ed and Alan sat quietly on the front porch, watching him in stunned silence. As if bug eating was the worst thing they'd seen since they met him and the rest of his not-so-normal family. As if anyone was normal in Santa Carla, Sam snorted.

"What do you want?" He asked bitterly, stomping towards them. More and more, it seemed to be getting easier to lay the blame for his problems right now at their collective feet. The grounding. The fish blood. The bee stings in his mouth...all roads led back to Alan...and mostly Ed.

"Listen, Sam, Alan figured something out last night when we were heading home...and we just managed to sneak into the library and steal something to confirm his suspicions. I think this'll make up for dinner," Edgar grunted, frowning and applying his business-like expression, as if he were calculating some kind of bill to draft up for Sam for all of his many 'services rendered'.

"I don't want to hear it," Sam replied, trying to shove past them and go inside, but they weren't having it. Now that it was clear he still didn't have any kinda freaky cravings for anything besides stuff with feelers or fins, they'd gathered what little courage they had to stand strong. Or sit strong. At any rate, they weren't going to let him pass so easily. They had something important to say.

"It's about that nest. I think I know where it might be," Alan blurted out, standing up to put his hands on Sam's shoulders.

Sam stepped back, raising his eyebrows, unsure whether to just ignore them and try to go inside again, or...hear them out. Nothing involving the Frog brothers seemed to imply they'd be able to really help more than harm him, but...he didn't have anything left to lose. "Okay, fine. What is it?"

"You remember when you told us...about the master...and him dragging you off to the beach?" Alan began, pursing his lips.

"...Yeah?"

"Well, it got us...mostly me...thinking. You said it was wet and stuff before you went into the building. So that means...it had to be somewhere by the water, right?"

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Well...don't you get it?"

Sam shook his head, getting gradually more irritated. "Get _what_?!"

"Sam. There aren't a lot of buildings right by the water here, nothing that's not directly attached to the boardwalk. There's a lighthouse, a few docks and shit, and...an old observatory. It's big. It's round. And it's been shut down for over 20 years!"

The youngest Emersons eyes widened. Why...why hadn't he thought of that? And...h _ow the hell_ did the Frogs?!

Alan beamed, which was a rare sight, given his propensity for sneering and scowling, "we broke into the library this morning-"

"You broke in?!" Sam blurted, incredulous. "WHY?!"

"...She revoked our cards and told us never to come back...that's not the point," Edgar finally butted in, shoving his brother to the side and taking his turn to grab Sam's shoulders.

"We found some old record books to get an idea of what the place looks like, just in case we're on to something. And there's windows all over the damned ceiling! All we need is a way to get up there and... **bam!** Shit-sucker barbecue a la mode!"

As incredible as this news was, it was...well, it was just about too good to be true. Sam put his hands on Edgars and gingerly pushed them aside, "I don't...I don't think it's gonna be that easy, guys. The master wouldn't like it...And how would we even get up to the roof, anyway?"

* * *

When night fell on Santa Carla, Tommy was anxious to get this over with and get the hell outta dodge. If he didn't give those dudes the tickets, Shane would probably kill him before he even got the chance. If he did give them the tickets, _they'd_ probably kill him before _Shane_ got the chance. This really sucked. Two years ago, all he'd been trying to do was sneak out to catch a late night movie before his parents could catch him. But no, he had to get side-tracked by those fucking surfers when he'd tried to take a shortcut through the boardwalk. And now here he was, permanently 14, always doing Shane's dirty work (just barely as low on the totem pole as the 'slave' he'd been keeping an eye on), and destined to spend the rest of what would be either his very short or his very long days as a perpetual late bloomer with a cracking voice and fishy BO.

Honestly, he couldn't smell it. But he'd never forget what it did smell like when he was still human, right before Shane had decided to use him as a guinea pig to see just how little or how much blood it took to make a new fledgling. The asshole had over thirty of them by now.

Tommy shook his head out of his bitter musings, looking down at the surfing contest tickets clasped tightly in his hands. Everybody knew about the Lost Boys. Even him, as young as he'd been the last time he saw the fuckers on the boardwalk. If Shane was to be believed, they were part of the reason he was stuck like this. If it hadn't been for one of them basically not finishing off his meal, Shane would be dead...and Tommy would be (hopefully) a strapping 16-year-old by now. Maybe even dating a cheerleader. Granted, not likely...but it was his fucking fantasy, and he could do whatever he liked in the magical world he wasn't stuck in a stinking nest drinking the scraps the others deigned to bring home every night when he was done running errands for Shane. As if he ever got time to go on his own hunts. Fuck, maybe it would be a good thing if the Lost Boys killed him when he brought them these stupid tickets.

His feet carried him wordlessly towards the group of bikers, huddled together quietly, and he was far too involved in his own thoughts to even notice how dangerously close he was to them. Close enough to smell. Close enough to touch.


	27. Chapter 27: Scaredy-Fish

Authors notes: Oh, man. Came so close to not having anything today. But I gotta say...when you make yourself write another 100 words...it gets so much easier to write another 1000.

* * *

When Lucy came home that evening, she stopped at the house long enough to get changed and check on Sam. Pushing open his door, she was fearful of seeing the worst sort of spectacle. Bugs littering the floor. Little rat skeletons. All manner of terrible things, judging by his behavior this morning. But...luckily...he was sleeping like an angel. She smiled, creeping slowly into the room so as not to disturb him and kneeling beside his bed to give him a quick peck on the forehead before leaving.

As she stood up and dusted lint from her skirt, Lucy paused and turned towards Sams closet. The door was closed...but there was light peeking out from the bottom. That was...odd. She strode towards it with a frown on her face, but a groan behind her caused the small woman to pause in her steps.

"Mom..." Sam groaned.

Lucy spun about, "Sam? Is there something wrong?" She was more than a little concerned. Another episode like what he'd displayed with his breakfast cereal, and she didn't know what she would do. But her angel looked just fine, laying down on his bed, tucked under his covers...smiling groggily. As if nothing insane or terrible in the world had happened in the last few days. Maybe a miracle had happened. Maybe he was feeling better...

"Leave the light on. I'm scared," Sam whimpered, pulling his covers closer to his face and drawing his knees up under the comforter.

Nodding, Lucy headed towards his bedroom door, "if that's what you want, honey. I'm going to be out for a bit, but ask your grandpa if you need anything...okay?"

Sam nodded quickly, "yeah, mom. I'm gonna be fine, though. Be safe out there...and if Mike acts funny, just run. Just get away before he tries to eat you."

"Sam!"

"Just kidding. But...don't tell him you knew he was...well...y'know," he smiled sleepily before yawning and snuggling back under his covers. Lucy paused in the doorway just a little longer to watch him settle in to bed. They'd be okay. She was sure of it.

As Lucy headed out the door, she didn't hear the crashing sound in Sam's closet at the Frog brothers came tumbling out, having gotten into a little bit of a scuffle when Ed had shoved Alan onto a stuffed porcupine, which was just as well. She probably didn't need to see them right now. Especially with all of the military gear they'd loaded themselves up on for tonight.

* * *

Sleeping had only fixed one thing. Michael had his eye back. Even then, the skin around his eyelid was still slightly puckered and pink, and he desperately wanted to scratch his face. It would remain so until he fed, which he wasn't really sure if he wanted to do tonight. Not because he wasn't hungry...he was starving. He'd been starving since his very first meal, when the blood spilling down his throat had painted his eternity permanently red. But he wanted the scarring to remain just a little bit longer, just enough for Star to get a good eyeful of what she was responsible for. Childish? Maybe. But since he still couldn't bring himself to outright hit or lash out at her, this was the best he could do.

They hadn't spoken since last night, and he didn't miss the plaintive looks she kept casting at him from the edge of the group, either, as she leaned against Paul's bike beside him. No surprise there. They already looked like they were practically attached at the hip. Never mind the fact that whenever she moved to stand somewhere else, Paul would follow. He didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to even look at her. Because if there was anything Star was good at, it was looking pitiful and sad, making him feel like _he_ was in the wrong instead of her. Too bad. Wasn't going to work this time.

Suddenly, that horrible scent which was becoming all too familiar permeated the air, and his head snapped up towards the source. A kid, just a little smaller than Sam...was approaching them. He felt a pressure on his chest as David reached over to hold him back. Michael glanced over at him questioningly, and David shook his head. As if he thought Michael would just lose it an attack the kid out in the open with all of these eyes on them. He wasn't _stupid_. Even if Star's performance had made him feel like the biggest idiot in the fucking world.

But...damn, he really wanted to.

* * *

David had been listening into the intruder's thoughts, gleaning the remaining details he could about the nest. The minds of these freaks were honestly so open, it was almost easier than reading a human. He was disappointed. It didn't honestly look like getting rid of the nest would take longer than a week at best. And here he'd been hoping for a bit more fun. More of a challenge. Then again, Star and Michael were enough of a handful.

"Uh..." The smaller vampire cleared his throat, thrusting out the tickets, "Sh...my master wants you to come to the surfing contest this Friday," he squeezed his eyes shut tight, as if he expected David to rip his throat out then and there. And for a moment, David entertained the idea as a fantasy. But he was bright enough to realize the problems that would cause. Not just the attention. He'd have to wash himself in a standing pool again to get rid of the smell.

Glancing quickly at Michael, a small smirk curled his lips when he removed his restraining arm from his childes chest. Michael was the only one left who'd yet to experience killing one of them. His reaction would be priceless.

"Thanks," David reached out and plucked the tickets from the kids hands, having to tug a little to wrestle the paper from his grasp. Shit, he was a pretty miserable excuse for a vampire. Even worse than a Surf Nazi. No spine at all. Killing him would be a mercy.

"He...uh..." The kid cleared his throat, taking a few steps back, ready to dash off at any minute. David pinned him with a slightly threatening gaze. He wasn't going to let this one run. "He wants you to know who's...who's in charge now."

That got everyones attention. A sneer pulled at Davids lips and he leaned forward, tucking his cigarette into his mouth and taking a pull, just so he could blow it in the kids face. "Oh? And who's in charge, huh?"

The kid visibly paled, trying to take a few more steps back, but unable to force his legs to move, "it's...I mean...that is...look, I didn't want anything to do with any of this!" He yelped.

"You didn't answer my question," David pulled back and looked at the rest of his pack. "Paul, what did I ask him?"

"I dunno. Marko, what did he ask him?" Paul looked over at the smaller vampire, who grinned over at him.

"I think he asked who's your mommy-" Marko jerked when Paul elbowed him in the side, "I mean...I dunno. Dwayne?" He snickered, and David glared at him. This was not the time to tease Paul. They could do that when they made their point.

"I dunno." Dwayne shrugged, "what about you, Star?" He craned forward to look at Star, who seemed reluctant to speak. She hated this game.

"I don't know. What do you think, Michael?"

There was silence.

"Michael?" David repeated his name, and the brunette glanced over at him and then back at the intruder. He still wasn't acknowledging anything Star said. Good. The longer that lasted, the better.

"I don't know, David," Michael shrugged. "What did you ask him?"

"You're in charge," the fishy kid blurted out. "You're in charge. You always were. Please don't kill me."

As a pack, they all laughed. Even Star and Michael.

David flicked his cigarette at the boys face, smirking when he tried to brush at his face and shirt, panicking as if he were about to catch fire, before looking back up at David with wild, fearful eyes. Black. Not because he was on the attack. But because he was a scared little kid, unable to even control his basic instincts.

"Michael, why don't you take care of our friend, huh?" David glanced over at the brunette, who nodded and glared at the kid darkly. It was anyones guess whether he'd kill him or let him go, but it was his choice. Hopefully he'd make the right one.

"Yeah, sure," Michael looked over at the fishy kid with a dark smile, made all the more gruesome by the scarring around his eye. Hopefully he'd be smart enough not to try and eat the kid, too. Then again...his reaction would be priceless.

Pushing himself away from his bike, Michael threw an arm around the kids shoulder and led him away, glancing back at the others, and still refusing to even look at Star.

* * *

The video store had been shut down quite some time ago, after the owner went missing. Still...Lucy couldn't bring herself to think his name. The monster and the man she'd thought would somehow help her with the boys. In a way, he'd planned to do just that...but not quite in the same way she'd been expecting. Sometimes she still had nightmares about him, one moment the charming man who'd helped her adjust to life in Santa Carla with hardly the bat of an eye...the next moment a brutal killer, hellbent on killing her sons if it meant trapping her in his horrible world of murder and bloodshed.

Lucy wasn't a horror fan. She didn't like scary movies or comics. But she knew enough about vampires to understand a few things: they ate people, they had no souls, and it took entirely too much bleach to fully remove their presence from a kitchen and bathroom. Even with extensive renovation, a small loan, aid from dads girlfriend...the pipes still weren't the same.

She shrugged the thought aside, running her nails through her hair as she turned away from the empty shop windows to survey the crowd. Summer had most certainly wound down with the beginning of the school year, but...goodness, the crowds seemed to be dissipating much faster than she would have expected. She hoped it didn't have anything to do with that monster who'd hurt Sam...

Idly patting her small purse, Lucy took comfort in knowing she'd been smart to take lessons the previous summer and get her gun license. If she ran into the man, whoever he was, she'd be sure to put a bullet right between his eyes. Maybe it might not kill him, and maybe it would...either way, it would slow him down long enough for her to figure out another solution and make sure no one ever touched her baby boy again. She'd...in a manner of speaking...lost one son. Lucy would _not_ lose another.

As she thought this, a funny sight made itself known from the corner of her eye. At first, it was just the glitter of jewelry...but then...a familiar fall of shoulder length curls she'd tried to convince her son on several occasions to cut, and the unmistakable walk Michael had...Lucy spun around to see her eldest with an arm around a small teenage boys shoulder, leading him into a darkened alley between two stores not too far away.

Pressing her hands to her face, she gasped, and hoped against hope she wasn't about to see something truly monstrous to convince her once and for all that her son...as she knew him...was gone forever.

Picking up the hem or her skirt, Lucy dashed after him, silent and panicked. She almost didn't want to call out his name. Because the sooner he saw her, the sooner she'd find out for certain whether Michael was _dead_ , in so very many ways. It was one thing to know he'd been caught and forced to become a monster, but it was entirely another to be confronted with the fact in person. Oh, how she hoped Sam was right when he said Michael was still the same. It would kill her if she found out he was wrong.

* * *

He didn't want to touch this kid with a ten-foot pole. The longer they walked together, the more the stench of him assaulted Michaels nostrils and made him want to lash out...deal with the intruder once and for all. It was an instinct he struggled to quell, until they were in a place private enough to have a little chat without any wandering eyes.

"How old are you?" Michael asked, making polite (but disinterested) conversation as they turned into an alley.

"16. But...I was 14 when I was killed," the boy replied quickly. As if he were compelled to answer any and all questions on pain of death. Really, he sort of was. But Michael also didn't plan on letting him live, even if he did answer them.

"And what's your name?"

"Tommy."

"Tell me, Tommy, how did you get mixed up in all of this?" Michael asked idly, as they walked further into the alley. His fingers itched as his claws began to grow. It was only the matter of a few minutes before he'd rip the kids chest cavity open and throw him into the shadows for the sun to finish off. He was actually looking forward to it. The nice thing about a quickly dying conscience, which only really remained now as a memory, was that he found the act of killing...much less disturbing. Much less upsetting. Still, the idea did bother him. But he supposed that feeling would fade too, over time. And if his feelings now were any indicator, he didn't doubt it would take too much longer. A small part of him wondered if drinking from David last night had helped speed up the process. Because...when he'd woken up...where he'd expected mild irritation or rage at himself for sleeping so close to his master, practically on the verge of touching him, he couldn't summon up an ounce of it. Everything about his new 'life' was starting to feel entirely too comfortable.

"I got forced."

"Oh?" Michael removed his arm from around Tommys shoulder and leaned up against the alley wall, crossing his arms. "That's nice," he smirked, as his face morphed, his voice deepening with those two words into something he didn't quite recognize.

"You...you are gonna kill me, then," Tommy lowered his head. Surprisingly resigned.

"Yeah. No hard feelings, though," Michael shrugged, stepping forward to place both hands on Tommys shoulders again, "but if it makes you feel any better, I didn't have a choice, either."

"No. It really doesn't," Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the death blow. This...honestly wasn't really that fun anymore. Michael frowned, disappointed. He'd expected at least some kind of struggle...this kid was pathetic. Faced with his own death, Michael had run for two years! He'd fought with everything he had! And...what did this fishy little fuck do? He just...stood there.

"Fuck, man," Michael pulled away, running his hands through his hair. "Dude, just get outta here. Run. Do whatever. I don't care," he shook his head. He didn't want to smell like fish, anyway. If he was going to kill someone tonight, it would be someone he'd actually enjoy eating.

"THANKYOUSOMUCH!" Tommy screamed out, throwing himself forward and startling Michael as he latched his arms around his chest and squeezed him tightly. The taller vampire growled a warning down at him, as if to say 'I could change my mind.' Quickly, Tommy pulled back and bobbed at him, before tearing off down the alley with a joyful scream and a leap. And...Michael was tempted to follow, because at least now he was _running_. But he was forced instead to face the last person in the world he'd expected to see, face tear-streaked, and beaming at him.

"Michael..."


	28. Chapter 28: An Escort Home

Authors notes: Thought you guys might find this funny. Last night I had a dream I somehow ended up in Santa Carla, really...really drunk...saw the Lost Boys on one side of the boardwalk, and a really nice car on the other...next minute I'm somehow parking the nice car in my front yard, and my roommates start yelling at me to take it back where I found it and get my car back. Was still drunk, and offended they thought I should be driving in that condition. Anyway, not really relevant...but it made me laugh. Glad I'm apparently not even a Mary-Sue in my dreams. I don't drive drunk, just so you know.

* * *

"Look, guys, I'm having second thoughts about this. I think I got a better idea," Sam sat up in his bed, throwing off his covers to reveal he was fully clothed and ready to leave the house immediately after Lucy was well away. He almost felt bad betraying her like this, but time was running out. It was already Wednesday night, and by Friday Shane would be back...with not even a word from Michael about what they were going to do to help him.

"What's the idea?" Edgar leaned forward, interested, "think we should just smoke out your brothers back too while we're geared up?" He inquired hopefully. And Sam frowned at him. They weren't going to get into the 'stay the fuck away from my brother' argument again.

"Well, for one...I think you need to put some more ointment on your face, cause you look like a weird tomato," Sam told him, "and for another...wouldn't it be so much cooler if you just...joined me and the master? I'm sure he'd-" Sam recoiled as a sharp ' ** _SLAP_** ' rang through the air, and brought a shocked hand to the side of his face, nursing his reddened cheek.

"Sorry, Sam, but that was for your own good," Edgar grunted. He didn't look too sorry, though.

"Y...Yeah...you're right," Sam replied warily, rubbing at his face. He _was_ right, but did he have to hit so hard? Somehow Sam doubted Ed didn't have other motives behind the force in that blow.

"Are we sure we want to do this tonight? At night?" Alan inquired, pulling a stake out of his stake belt he'd strapped diagonally across his chest and using it to scratch the side of his head. "It just seems like it'd be smarter to wait until the sun's out-"

"Look, if we do this now, Sam's less likely to turn on us. We have no idea when he'll turn full shit-sucker lover on us. You saw him just now!" Ed argued with Alan, pointing at Sam and gesticulating wildly to emphasize his need to take action sooner than later.

"I'm right here, Ed," Sam lowered his eyebrows, frowning. "I can hear every word you're saying."

"We're bad monster bashers, guys, remember? All we gotta do is stake the place out tonight, so we have an idea exactly what to do tomorrow. The longer we wait, the more time we waste. I got some water balloons filled with holy water stuffed in my coat pockets just in case, so there's no way this won't work." Edgar was getting more and more excited by the second, as if this were all some kind of game, and the worst outcome was just losing one of an infinite set of lives. Ever since that fight with the Lost Boys, he'd gotten a lot more foolhardy. Even Alan looked a bit nervous about the plan, but...he was a follower. Always had been, always would be. And Sam? Well...Sam kinda wanted to hurry up and see the master again. The Frogs didn't need to know he was more excited about that right now than saving himself anymore. He didn't want another slap, either.

* * *

"Oh, man..." Michael turned away from his mother as she began to approach, burying his face in his hands and attempting to school his features. The combination of being around that scent of rival pack, and damn...the fact that he was so hungry...the blood in Lucy's veins was singing out to him, begging him to take a bite. And whatever god there was that could listen, devil or not, he wished he could pray to push the half of himself away that didn't actively mind the idea too much of tearing into his _own mother_ if it meant filling his belly for a few hours.

"Michael?" The concern lacing her voice was so very familiar, he felt a twisting sensation in his stomach. And yes, part of it was the hunger. But he was relieved to realize the other part was his need to protect her from himself. He only hoped he could somehow keep that small portion of who he used to be. Maybe it was a sliver of his soul that had somehow remained despite everything, or maybe it was just sentimentality. Whatever it was, he was glad to realize it still held sway over the blood lust. For now, at least. Michael wasn't really sure how long he could last, if she didn't speed this reunion up. What was she doing out here _at this hour_ in an alley, anyway?!

"Michael, look at me." Lucy repeated his name, and he kept his face turned away even as he lowered his hands. The claws were very slowly receding, much against their own desire to remain drawn for rending flesh and making her blood that much easier to access.

"I can't, mom. I'm...I'm not the same," Michael replied in that same deep rasp he couldn't even recognize as something coming out of his own throat.

"You mean they caught you. You're not human anymore. Yes, I know." Lucy stepped even closer, and with her voice and body came that same blood song, making his fangs that much more difficult to force back as the gold glow faded from his eyes to be replaced by the same soulful blue she would recognize. This was the absolute last thing he'd wanted to happen tonight. And...wait, how did she know?!

"SAM!" Michael growled, clenching his fists and spinning about to face her when the tiny woman stood hardly three feet away, holding up one hand to her chest and another to beckon him, call out to her wayward eldest. He was going to beat the shit out of his brother.

"He didn't tell me," Lucy shook her head. "Edgar did."

 _Edgar._ Of course. But there was only one way the little bastard could've found out. And that led Michael right back to the same conclusion. Sam. Fucking. Talked. At least he could rest easily knowing tearing out the Frog brother's throat would be a moderately less disturbing goal than his own family members.

"Michael Emerson, you wipe that scowl off your face!" Lucy suddenly snapped in the worst tone of all. The mom tone.

Michael balked, eyes widening as he lowered his head, "sorry, mom. I just...it's...you...I didn't want you to find out."

"Well, I did. So, now that's out in the open. What were you planning on telling me the next time you called? Were you planning on calling? Or were you just going to let me think you'd died?!"

"I..." If Michael's face could have flushed bright red, it would have. "I didn't think that far."

"Of course," Lucy threw up her hands, "you didn't think that far. You know what this reminds me of? It reminds me of that time you told me your brother's Monchichis ate all of the pizza bagels! Only this is much, _much_ worse." She stepped even closer and pulled him into her arms, despite his best efforts to stay as far back from her as he could. And despite himself, despite the hunger, despite everything...he relaxed, wrapping his arms around her as well and lowering his head to his tiny mother's shoulder.

"Mom..." Michael began, nervously turning his head just slightly so it wasn't facing her very prominent and very small jugular.

"What?"

"...I wasn't lying. His Monchichis _did_ eat them. All of them."

She slapped his back playfully, and he feigned a whimper, while she laughed against his chest. "You're grounded, by the way. Just keep that in mind when you're off...doing whatever it is you plan on doing tonight," she couldn't bring herself to state the obvious. One step at a time. If he could still look at her, and touch her, and remember she was his mother, that would just have to be enough for now.

* * *

Tommy crept by the squirming pile of bodies, pausing just once to shiver in disgust. He was glad he hadn't been third generation from Shane. The weird experiments his 'master' played with each of his new creations was enough to turn his stomach. Each time one of his fledglings turned another, they were a little dumber, a little slower, and a little more vicious. The ones on the bottom story of the observatory, beneath the floor level, were barely even able to hold conversations. Let alone control themselves in public. Yet another chore Tommy did not regret abandoning in favor of skipping town tonight, as he lugged his suitcase behind him. Nothing in it he couldn't afford to leave behind, but he just couldn't bring himself to abandon his little trinkets. Clothes. A couple comics from his aunt and uncles comic shop on the boardwalk. Maybe he'd leave a note or something for his parents, or call them when he finally made it safe and well away from Shane or the Lost Boys. They'd probably appreciate that. He didn't think about them much these days, but he remembered a few faces here and there. His mom. His cousins. His dog. He really resented the journal Shane forced him to keep, recording exactly how much and how little he could remember from week to week. It only made things that much worse.

No. There was no way in hell he'd miss Santa Carla, Tommy mused, climbing up the metal staircase towards the ground level. He jumped when he heard the sound of hissing and short breaths behind him, one in particular huffing warm and close on his neck. Turning about nervously, Tommy smiled as best he could, "go back to the pile, Candy. I'll bring your dinner to you later." He paused when she backed down the steps and cocked her head, tongue darting out to lick at sharpened teeth, cutting itself to her own delight as she proceeded to suck on her lips and whine as the cuts healed. Others behind her dislodged themselves from the pile, anxiously sniffing at the scent of fresh blood. Tommy wrinkled his nose and shook his head, picking up the pace as he darted up the steps. He almost wished he could put them all out of their misery. As much as he hated being a vampire, he couldn't imagine what it must be like to be...that much dumber.

"Bring. Dinner. Fast." Candy grunted, climbing up after him and pressing her face to the top step. Shane had made it very clear to all of them early on that they weren't allowed to leave the bottom floor. Which worked out really well for Tommy. If they found out he was leaving without so much as a pint of blood for them, they'd rip him limb from limb. Loyalty was not something Shane really bred into most of his nest. Only hunger. And surfing...which Tommy was glad to be left out of. He hated surfing.

* * *

What was taking Michael so long? He should have been done and ready to go for a proper hunt by now. David crossed his arms and began to scan the crowd, searching for any sign or scent of one of his two youngest, growing more and more agitated by the second.

" _So, how did it feel, Paulie? Was she gentle? Did she make you cry?_ " Marko batted his eyelashes provocatively and gave Paul a dark grin.

David glanced over at the two, rolling his eyes, "I _think crying is more **your** scene, Marko."_

 _"One fucking time, man! Once!"_ Marko snapped back, the grin fading from his face as he glared back at David.

Paul simply huffed, putting on a leer as he leaned closer to Star, while his thoughts were much less cheerful, _"She caught me on a bad day. After I eat, you can all watch. You'll see. I'll have her screaming for more while I grind her face in the dirt. You just watch."_

 _"Just try to make sure she doesn't do the same to you, this time,"_ Dwayne joined in, climbing onto his bike.

Star stepped back from Paul with an angry frown and pointedly walked over to climb behind Dwayne, deciding she'd much rather ride with him on their hunt than the jerk she blamed for her rift with Michael. She looked up at the sky, and took a deep breath. Maybe the word wouldn't come to her mind anymore as easily as it used to, but she was still pretty sure she loved him. If he didn't want to talk to her right now, fine. She knew she deserved a little punishment. But sooner or later he'd...sooner or later he'd calm down, and they could start again. Last time it had taken almost two years, granted, but this time...this time they had an eternity. As long as she could keep Paul off of her, she was sure she wouldn't need nearly that much time for Michael to come around again. They were _made_ for each other, weren't they?

 _"We going so soon?"_ Marko looked around, "what about Mikey?" He said aloud.

 _"You go on ahead. It's been an hour. More than enough time to deal with that little twerp. I'll catch up to you after I find his ass and drag it back,"_ David waved a hand, trying to sound less irritated than he was right now. He couldn't believe he'd decided to give Michael a full month to get his head straight. Frankly, David was beginning to wonder now whether _he_ wouldn't be the one who didn't last, as mad as he was right now.

* * *

Tommy dug a Twinkie package out of his jacket pocket, licking his lips as he dropped the trapdoor closed and tossed his suitcase aside so he could use a free foot to smooth sand over the door. One of his chores tonight was replenishing it, but screw that. Now that he knew he was leaving, Tommy was a lot less terrified of the wrath of Shane. Not to mention...The Lost Boys were probably going to deal with him. If any of the stories were to be believed, anyway.

Shredding the plastic wrapper with his teeth, he licked his lips and began to shove the pastry into his mouth, when suddenly...he heard a metallic shriek at the door. Without thinking, Tommy dove to the ground and frantically tried to dig himself a hiding space beneath a large mound of sand. If Shane found out he hadn't immediately gone to spy on the slave's house, he'd be in deep shit. And he couldn't handle another flaying right now.

"Coast is clear. Let's go in," Edgar grunted, sliding past the door with a water balloon in one hand and a stake in the other as he pressed himself up against the wall. Next came Alan, copying his move, and finally...a very resigned Sam. He was almost sad he was about to turn his friends in to the master. After all, they were only trying to help. Maybe he could convince Shane to give them the gift as well. Because that was exactly what he'd finally realized. Little lives...they were a gift. A blessing in disguise as fishy blood sludge, but a gift nonetheless.

Tommy peeked out from his large mound of sand, lips quivering. It wasn't Shane...it wasn't the guy who'd nearly ripped his head off back on the boardwalk...it was...

"Ed?! Alan?!" Tommy barked beneath the sand, spitting out bits of grit and Twinkie in front of him. The frogs panicked, spinning around to face the talking mountain. They both knew that voice.

* * *

Michael had decided to accompany Lucy back to the house, and though she'd hinted several times he was welcome to stay, he'd declined. It was nice to be around her, to catch up, to know once and for all that he...probably would always have some feelings for her...but he knew he wouldn't be able to handle the temptation of living with humans forever. Nor would he be able to quell the pack's anger if they found out he'd tried to ditch them in favor of playing house.

"Are you sure you don't want to come inside? I could make you some cocoa...maybe a tomato and mayo sandwich?" Lucy asked hopefully at the front door. That had always been one of his weaknesses...but he declined in favor of pecking her on the cheek and stepping back.

"No, mom, not tonight. I gotta go. And...next time...don't try to find me," Michael shook his head. "It's dangerous out there. I can't look after all of you."

"I've got a gun in my purse," Lucy informed him with a small measure of pride and hope laced together in her voice.

Michael smirked, "yeah?" He couldn't help but recall how amused Marko had been when the hick at the bar had tried to shoot him down...honestly, the carnage was another hay on the camel's back before he and Star completely lost it. So he could safely say a gun would probably only make things worse for her if she tried to use it. "Not a good idea, mom. Just trust me. I'll visit...eventually," he didn't know if he was lying or not, but he also didn't know if she'd follow his advice if he _didn't_ make some kind of promise. And damned if he couldn't see the slight wariness in her eyes as she pulled away and silently closed the door. As if she could still read him like a book, monster or not.

He gave a frustrated growl, kicking at the porch and stepping back into the shadows. Mom didn't need to know what he was about to do next, but he figured...might as well, while was here, anyway. Granted...as hungry as he was...it wasn't going to be easy. Each little trick took a little more out of him right now, made the beast inside a little stronger and hold a little more sway. But he _had_ to check on Sam. There was no way around it.

A cool wind brushed at the back of his ears as Michael slowly took to the sky, circling around the house until he reached Sam's bedroom window. Unlocked. Frowning, he lets his claws grow so he could get a firm grip beneath the frame and push it up. He ended up shoving too hard, however, and the glass shattered as window met pane. Flinching, Michael almost pulled back, in fear Lucy or grandpa would come running to discover his crime...but they didn't.

"Sam?" Michael whispered, sniffing at the air. His brother's scent was there. But very faint. Michael frowned, pulling himself with a little effort into the room. Not so easy to focus on flying and acrobatics at once, but he eventually managed.

He lowered his head, sniffing at the air again. There was the faint trace of Sam, still, and...the Frog brothers. No mistaking that corn chip and fungus smell. Even when he was human, they reeked of it. Freshly-cut wood...Pine? Garlic...

" _Fuck!_ " Michael hissed, climbing quickly out of the window. Those idiots...Sam was going to get himself killed! And he didn't have the time or energy to focus on tracing them down anymore, because the hunger had finally driven itself to a razor thin point, battling with his control and his desire to fight it. He had to get away from the house quick, before mom and gramps started looking too good to pass up. But there'd be hell to pay when he came back to deal with Thorne later. Some fucking guard dog! And even Nanook hadn't done anything! UGH!

* * *

Additional note: And yeah...something is about to happen in the next chapter ;)


	29. Chapter 29: Shortest Month Ever

Author's notes: You know something? From Dusk Till Dawn (the movie) has...the best soundtrack. Also, may not be posting until late Monday night. Holi, Easter, and sitting in at a play rehearsal. So tried to make this a nice juicy chapter for you guys :). Also. Naughty. Mike and David. You know the drill. I was really satisfied with their fight sequence. To be honest, that's kinda the reason I started writing these stories. I've always sucked at writing action scenes.

* * *

While there would be no normal dog in the world to match the wits of Thorne...ultimately, a Hellhound could only extend his thought process so far beyond the basics of hunting, protecting, and guiding his master (if need be.) And when the spy had hunkered down at the Emerson property, Thorne did not react, because a threat was not made. But he did catalog that odor, and when the boy he'd been charged to protect left the house that night, he followed at a distance. When the boys went in the observatory, he settled down to wait. Surrounded by the fragrance of meals he would not like to have, but creatures his master would likely not be fond of, Thorne kept silent guard. Though they did not know it yet, Sam and the Frog brothers were very safe from any creature who might approach from outside...though quite the opposite, if they knew what was hidden below the surface of the building, lurking and on the verge of howling for fresh blood.

The Hellhound stretched out in the sand beside the concrete walkway that led towards the observatory, and gazed out towards the dark blue water, huffing out a deep breath when he caught sight of a small yacht lazily cruising through the harbor.

* * *

"Dude! What the hell are you doing here?!" Alan blurted, fists clenching a stake so tight the flesh around it turned chalk white. He was immediately making a connection he didn't like right now, and it was almost as bad as imagining Edgar as one of the living dead. His cousin. His cousin who'd been missing for two years...'alive', in the flesh, eyes black, buried in a mound of sand like a bizarre beach monster, face stuffed to the brim with Twinkie bits...the last part was not an unfamiliar sight. He had a disturbing obsession with Twinkies.

"Uh...what about you?!" Tommy blurted out, struggling to dislodge himself from the sand and stumbling out with bits of grit and dirt clinging stubbornly to his pastel yellow pullover. "You shouldn't be here," he shook his head wildly, the wild blackness of fear quickly melting from his eyes. He'd known his cousins were nutjobs, but stumbling into a vampire nest in the middle of the night? Wow.

"How do you guys know each other?" Sam asked warily, pressing himself up against the wall and looking back and forth between the frantic Frog brothers and the scrawny vampire who'd emerged from a sandy cocoon. If this vampire was in some way associated with the Frogs, it could only mean he'd endanger the master, Sam reasoned. He'd have to tell Shane about this when they got out. Wait...what was he thinking?! Sam shook his head wildly, running his hands through his hair, and gritting his teeth. It was like he had to remind himself every five minutes that the Frog brothers, for all their trouble, were his _friends,_ not a carry-out meal for the master. But...but the master would be very upset if he didn't do everything within his power to protect the nest. If it was even possible, Sam pressed himself even closer to the wall, trying to merge with the very metal, trying to use it to brace the last few shreds of his sanity. If it took two weeks to flush this out, and he'd only managed to make it three days now...what would it be like _next week_? Or even _tomorrow_?!

"Cousins." The small vampire replied to Sam's question dismissively, glaring back at the Frogs, "Look, guys," Tommy held up his hands, "I get it. You used to be really into monster comics, right?"

"We're hunters," Edgar grunted, "you already knew that."

"...Yeah, clearly. Hunters," Tommy waved a hand dismissively, and the Frog brothers were very lucky that they smelled so appetizing. Their naturally offensive body odor and the garlic strings around their necks were enough to put any normal vampire off his meal, shark-like or otherwise. "Well, clearly this isn't a comic, and I hate to break it to you...but you gotta get going." He glanced back towards Sam with a slight frown, "if Shane finds out you've been spreading rumors about this place, you're dead, dude."

"I wasn't spreading rumors! They tricked me!" Sam exclaimed, pointing his fingers back and forth at Ed and Alan, despite his best attempts not to be a shit-sucker's cowardly little bitch right now. It wasn't doing him any good. Being so close to the smell of Shane and the rest of the nest seemed to be making him even worse. He had to get away, if he wanted to keep his sanity...yet on the other hand, he wanted to stay...possibly never leave. This place just felt so...so _right_!

The Frog brothers rounded on Sam, horrified at his immediate change of attitude, just now realizing how stupid it had been to trust him not to sell them out, as nuts as he'd been acting. Ed couldn't just slap him every 30 seconds to keep his head straight, either. Not only would he bruise himself, it would mean he'd only have one free hand to fight bloodsuckers.

"Ahhhhh," Tommy sighed, scratching at his chin as his eyes reverted to their normal color, looking for all the world like a very normal (but very frustrated) teenager again. "I'm only doing this because you're family, okay?" Tommy explained, kneeling down to heft up his suitcase and carry it over to the door. "Come on, I'll show you something," he gestured towards the metal stairs that lead up to the upper portion of the building where all of the black drapery had blocked out the windows.

Alan and Ed clung close to each other, not sure whether they could trust anything that came out of a bloodsucker's mouth, whether he was their cousin or not. Little bastard didn't even pay for half the comics he swiped off their shelves.

"Oh, wait..." Tommy dug into his jeans pockets and looked towards Sam, "tell me something...what do you think of Shane?" His eyes seemed to drill into the youngest Emerson, and Sam didn't really know what he should say. Whose side was this kid on? Clearly, he was part of the nest...but on the other hand, he didn't immediately jump to kill the Frogs for intruding on their sanctum either. And...damn, he was so conflicted right now, he didn't know which he'd prefer.

"Sh...the master?" Sam licked his lips, trying to decide what he should say, or whether he could even make himself say what he was sure he felt...or used to feel...or should feel? "He's a son of a-...wonderful woman, an unholy saint, the strongest and greatest creature to ever walk the earth, a-"

"Okay, okay, okay...yeah, I got it. Shane's great. Sure." Tommy shook his head with a bitter smile, "sorry to do this to ya. Promise it won't take long...maybe about an hour," he apologized to Sam as he pulled his hands slowly out of his pockets, something clenched in each fist as he squeezed his eyes shut tight and reeled his hands back, flinging two gigantic fistfuls of poppy seeds to the ground right in front of Sam. Then, with his eyes still closed, he spun about and dashed towards the stairs.

"C'mon, follow me!" Tommy yelled out, stubbornly refusing to glance back, or he'd be caught too.

Sam looked down at the poppy seeds, confused, and made a move to follow the Frogs as they went after the small vampire, but then...gosh, those seeds were so pretty. Mesmerizing. He _had to_ count them...

He dropped to his knees with a joyful squeal, slowly trying to pinch each individual seed so he could lift it into his palm before proceeding to the next, "1, 2, 3..."

* * *

David parked his bike some distance from the Emerson property, not wanting Michael to notice his presence immediately if it turned out he'd come back here to play house. He should have been more firm the last time his fledgling ran off that this kinda shit wasn't going to fly. Disappearing without a word, as if he were still human. As if he were still the master of his own fate. Not that he would be able to stay away from them for very long, granted. The blood running through his veins right now wouldn't put up with that. He and Star were pack, through and through. Difficult, stubborn, childish, but still pack.

Frowning, he sniffed at the air to pick up Michael's scent. It was unmistakable, even more so once they'd been mated. But...David took to the air, sailing closer to the house and endeavoring to sense Thorne. He was gone. So was that distinctly fishy smell Sam carried with him...something very odd was going on right now. He was more concerned about his own pet, though, than the annoying little fuck who'd been partially responsible for taking Michael away from him the first time around. Michael wasn't in the house, but...he wasn't far, either. Directing his attention towards the horizon, David fled back towards his bike. He growled and gunned the engine, cursing at himself for thinking Michael had finally begun to learn how to behave. Whether he liked the challenge or not, this was just too much. He couldn't spend every fucking night playing hide and seek. David needed to eat, too!

* * *

Star struggled with the clasp on her neck to a sequined white cocktail dress, when Marko stepped up behind her and quickly snapped it into place. She would have told him to back off, when he grazed his fingers over her backside, but Paul surprisingly stepped in to give him a small shove for his efforts.

"Whoa, Paulie, you on the rag tonight?" Marko snickered, shrugging himself into his too-large red formal jacket. Tonight, Dwayne had picked the meal, and they'd decided to play a bit of dress-up afterwards, given how perfect the little party on the yacht was. Five men, two women. More than enough blood to sate the group, and some to spare when they took a carcass back to feed Thorne before they turned in. And when they decided they'd had enough, they could just throw the bodies overboard, and let the boat steer itself into oblivion or crashing a loading dock, whichever came first.

"I'm beginning to feel like there's just four of us again," Marko sighed, kicking at a tall mirror in the bedroom below deck and watching it shatter on the ground. Whatever. He didn't need a reflection to know he looked _good_. Even if the jacket was three sizes too big, or the undershirt stained with copious amounts of blood. Marko was proud to be the messiest eater in the pack, and displaying his costume right now was a symbol of his accomplishment.

Dwayne and Paul wore identical black jackets, Dwayne's a little too tight, and Paul's a little too loose. All-in-all, Star seemed to be the only member of their little soiree who found something that fit. But she didn't like the looks Paul was giving her as she crossed towards the stairs leading up to the deck, so she made sure Dwayne was behind her as she walked.

Marko and Paul lingered in the room, grinning at each other.

" _Okay, so, you think you can pull it off by midnight?_ "

" _Before my dick turns into a pumpkin? Yeah, I think I can,_ " Paul tossed his hair.

" _I'm telling you, Paulie, this time ya gotta make sure you get her good._ "

" _Yeah. I get it._ " Paul replied, shoving past Marko and dashing up after the others.

" _No, I mean reeeeally get her good. Got it, princess?_ " Marko made a circle with one hand and stuck his opposite index finger through it, grinning and jumping back when Paul took an agitated swipe at him.

 _"My money's on Star tonight,"_ Dwayne's thoughts echoed down to them from above deck.

" _Assholes,_ " Paul replied, clenching his fists. The more they fucked with him, the worse he'd make it on Star. Mate or not, he was going to show her once and for all who was really in charge.

* * *

Tommy closed the door on the roof behind them, replacing the fabric over the window and crossing over to the Frogs to drop down on his rear with a thump.

Alan and Edgar looked down at him warily, gripping at their stake belts, and exchanging a glance.

"I'm not going to bite, don't worry," Tommy explained, patting the roof paneling beside him. "Would've done it by now, wouldn't I?"

"Can't trust a bloodsucker's word," Edgar grunted, shaking his head.

"Not even if you used to be family," Alan solemnly agreed.

"Okay...whatever, keep standing. I'm just trying to be a good host," Tommy retorted, "but if you think even for a second you're gonna be able to get rid of Shane, which it looks like you are..." he gave them both a mildly amused once-over. Not that he'd never seen his cousins dressed and acting like dumbasses before. They kinda had to, with their freaky-ass parents shoving funny brownies down their throats all the time as kids. "...You wanna know his weaknesses, right?" This was perfect. If his cousins killed Shane, then great! Tommy wouldn't have to worry about being followed after he skipped town. If they didn't, well...they'd probably distract him long enough to at least get a bus ticket. Family or not, Tommy honestly didn't have any particularly strong feelings left in him. He'd been in the nest a little too long to even try to summon up a semblance of it. Plus, any lingering sentimentality he _might_ have had been washed away when he saw their stakes and garlic.

Alan and Edgar turned away from Tommy, leaning in close to each other to whisper.

"You think we should trust him?" Edgar growled.

"We don't have a choice. And look what he did to Sam downstairs, he's gotta know a few good tips," Alan replied, eyes darting back over his shoulder to look down at his very bored-looking former cousin.

"What if he's lying? What if he's just trying to trick us into hanging around until the rest of them show up? I don't think we can take on more than five..." Edgar sounded doubtful, for the first time...ever, really.

"Don't worry. If he's lying, the good ol' stake and holy water should still do the trick," Alan insisted. "And this is the best option. Straight from the vamp's mouth."

"Okay..." Edgar took a deep breath, and they spun back to face Tommy, who'd very clearly heard them. They were really...really bad at this thing. Yeah, he really doubted they'd make it very far. There must be someone seriously insane looking over them from above, because Tommy was just about the only person in the world who wouldn't have torn their throats out by now just for annoying him. Then again, eye for an eye. If a stronger vampire than him could show mercy, why couldn't Tommy? At least it made him feel like he was less of a joke.

* * *

A couple. Young. Sweet. Fearful of the beach, where many of their friends had seemed to go missing over the years, but brave enough to camp in the small sliver of forest nestled further away from the shore. They snuggled together under a plaid fleece blanket, the girl keeping her hands wrapped around the boy's arm while he held a stick out over their roaring fire to roast a marshmallow they'd no doubt share together as they whispered sweet nothings. It was cute. Such an innocent sight. David wanted to gag from his perch in the tree while he watched Michael across the clearing gazing at them with glowing eyes and a nervous energy about him.

David sifted through his mate's thoughts, snorting when he could barely make sense of them. Michael had waited too long to feed, and yet he was still trying to hang on, because the pair below reminded him so much of what he'd wanted to have with Star. Rolling his eyes, David leaned back and crossed his arms, waiting for Michael to hurry the fuck up and eat so they could have a proper little chat.

 _"Go on, do it,"_ David's thoughts brushed through Michael's mind as soft as a kiss, subtle enough for him to somehow think they were his own. Still, the boy clung to the tree he leaned against, claws digging deeply into the bark. _"Stop being so fucking picky!"_ This time, David wasn't so subtle, which made Michael jerk up and look around manically, searching for the source of the voice. David rubbed at his temples, patience finally waning. Fine. No surprise, even if he didn't know it, the boy was always going to figure out a new way to be difficult with his master. Whatever. David was perfectly fine with eating them, even if Michael was apparently too high and mighty to do the same. He was only making this harder on himself, in the long run.

The girl jumped, eyes darting about at the sound of rustling trees, when the air about them began to pick up at an astonishing rate, shaking leaves and branches as loud as crashing waves.

"It's just the wind, hon," the boy leaned down and kissed her cheek, closing his eyes and relaxing as he pulled her closer, swinging her slightly as he rocked left and right on the ground, the faint sound of David Bowie crooning from a small radio in their tent nearby. He was so focused on the moment, he didn't even notice as she tensed up in his arms. Didn't see the monster standing on the other side of their campfire, twisted face and dripping fangs made all the more terrifying by the light and shadow playing against his features. In a shower of sparks, David leaped across the fire and tore the girl from the man's arms, snapping her neck in one swift movement before tossing her aside like a rag doll to bring one hand sailing through the air and slashing his throat open.

Michael stepped out of the shadows with a frustrated growl, and David grinned as he threw the man's body down to the ground and knelt to dig his fangs in deep where he'd shredded the flesh. Cops would say bears had somehow come to Santa Carla, even though no one had seen any of them around for over fifty years.

When the younger vampire tried to step around David and his quarry to grab at the dead girl, his master growled back at him in warning, pulling his face away from his victim's throat to snap up at him, "you had your chance!"

"I saw them first," Michael hissed, kneeling low, challenging him. And didn't David just love the sight, seeing his stubborn fledgling give in to his instincts. Now that he was faced with the possibility of not feeding, the cute little romantic scene was wiped from his conscience.

"Too fucking bad," David snapped back, snarling as he dug back into his meal, keeping his eyes focused on Michael. Daring him. Demanding that he challenge his master. He was getting hard just thinking about the fight that lay ahead of them, if his mate decided he was hungrier than he was smart. It would take so very little to push him over the edge now...hardly more than a word. Hardly more than a touch.

The combination of the blood high, and the calculating look behind Michael's feral eyes...it almost sent David over the edge. Almost made him decide to end this little farce, here and now. But that wasn't the agreement, he mused, taking in a mouthful of his crimson drug and groaning against the man's neck. That sound was what did it, and in less than a second, Michael was darting around him to try and grab at the girl. The blood wouldn't be nearly as good now that it was no longer pumping, but it would be enough to bring him back to himself. David simply wasn't going to allow that. So he took the challenge, releasing his victim and licking his lips.

"Your turn," David bared his fangs, scrambling forward to yank the girl from Michael's clutches before he could even sink his fangs in. He was met with a hiss and a clawed swipe across his face, which he just barely managed to pull away from, growling and grabbing Michael's wrist to pull him forward. The fledgling tried to yank away from David's grasp, but he only squeezed tighter, and they were rolling around in the dirt, hissing and spitting like cats. At times, it almost seemed as if Michael had a fighting chance, driven on by his hunger. But they were few and far-between, especially when David managed to land a few good punches in his sternum, flipping Michael over onto his chest and digging his fangs into his neck, just daring him to keep going. Which, unsurprisingly, he did, pushing back and slamming his head up into David's chin with a loud ' ** _crack!_** '

The blonde pulled back, mentally cursing and pressing his hands to his face as his broken jaw quickly began to heal itself. So...Michael wanted to play dirty? _Fine_.

Michael pushed himself into a sitting position, quickly spinning about and remaining crouched, ready to pounce at David even as the pack leader reached into his coat pocket. "You sure you wanna keep fighting, Michael?" David quirked an eyebrow, grinning through a mouthful of his blood and his meal's, licking his lips again. The next moment hardly registered to both of them, since it went so fast. Michael was in the air, David remained on the ground, watching him as he launched his attack, and then his fledgling was hunched over him, groaning when David dug a switchblade firmly into his stomach, gripping Michael by the shoulder to pull him in close and whisper into his ear, "you're lucky you're already dead." He gave the knife a good twist, wringing a howl from the boy's lips before he managed to bring his hands down to try and force David's hand and knife from his flesh.

Very slowly, David did pull the switchblade away, bringing it to his tongue to lick it, wildly grinning at the taste of Michael's blood. It certainly wasn't the traditional definition of foreplay, but it worked. His fledgling panted, unable to lift himself from David and groaning into his shoulder.

"That was... _low_..." Michael hissed.

The blonde shrugged as he pushed his fledgling off of him, throwing him down to the ground and climbing on top of Michael to straddle his hips. The wound in his stomach was healing very sluggishly. Pairing that with the scarring that had yet to finish disappearing on his face, as well as the numerous bite-marks and scratches from their fight, and he looked like an absolute mess. This probably wouldn't be the last time.

"Are you done?" David asked, idly closing his switchblade and slipping it into his coat pocket before he shrugged the article of clothing down his shoulders and tossed it aside.

Michael glared up at him, refusing to answer. Prideful, even after his ass had been thoroughly beat. Fair enough. They could work on that later.

"You still hungry?" David continued, sounding quite pleasant now that he'd worked out some of his frustration tonight.

"What do you think?" Michael replied, turning his head to the side and huffing, flinching slightly at the pain in his stomach.

"You want something to eat?" David taunted, leaning down with a smug grin.

"Yes," Michael squeezed his eyes shut tight, refusing to look up at him. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next, and he wasn't happy with it _at all_.

David pressed a wrist to his mouth, biting deep into the flesh and reaching down to jerk Michael's face forward so he could get a good vantage point to put the bleeding wound right over the boy's mouth. And he didn't have to be told. He was too hungry to even fight it, drinking long and deep. It was even better than the night before...somehow it tasted richer, more satisfying. Probably because of the fight, Michael thought, keeping his eyes closed as he rode the wave of ecstasy. He felt like a drug addict, as even a sliver of reasoning slipped from his mind in the face of this bestial hunger.

When David finally pulled his wrist away, licking up the trail of blood over the quickly healing flesh, Michael wanted to whine in protest, but he bit his lip, gazing up at his master's face. A word danced on the edge of his mind, an elusive one, something that firmly promised a much happier future if he could only remember it. But right now, he didn't even want to catch it, as his master leaned down to rub a thumb over the scars on Michael's throat. It sent a shiver down his spine. That dancing word would eventually come back again, beat him to the ground, tear away his pride and sense of self. For for now, he ignored it in favor of the lips just barely within reach, reaching forward to grab David's shirt collar and pull him close.

He let go. With even more skill than even he thought he was capable of right now with the blood lust roaring in his mind, Michael and David managed to strip away each other's clothes.

" _Month_..." Michael gasped as David pulled away from him, leaning down to nip trails over his chest.

"What?" David asked, hardly much more coherent than he was right now.

"That was the word..." Michael replied, frowning, then jerking as he felt David bite down on one of his nipples and tease it.

" _Shut the fuck up_ ," David breathed, growled, as they came together again, rolling in the dirt as they dug claws and fangs into each other. The only difference this time...well...this time it was for fun. The word pirouetted out of Michael's mind once more when David drove into him, and damn...this was so much better than a word he couldn't even understand, Michael just let it go and enjoyed the ride.

In the distance, a small child jumped up in his bed at the sound of monsters howling in the woods. He'd have nightmares about them for years.


	30. Chapter 30: Fish Can't Fly

Author's notes: Just realized something. If Shane had eaten jellyfish instead of sharks...he might have been bio-luminescent...so...technically, sparkly? Anyway, short chapter tonight because I'm just getting back into the swing, but longer one tomorrow.

* * *

"So...just give me the basics first. What do you know about vampires?" Tommy leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. He flinched at the distinct sound of nails scratching against the metal trapdoor in the building, hoping that kid was smart enough not to investigate it. Somehow, he doubted Shane would let it go if he not only ran off, but got his slave killed in the process.

"Stakes. Holy water. Crosses. Sunlight. Running water. Counting...seeds, beans, rice...that one was untested, but glad we found out about it." Edgar held out one hand as he counted off the weaknesses on his fingers, squinting hard when he tried to remember if there was anything else. "And being blasted to pieces with stereo equipment seemed to work pretty well..." Even if apparently the effects of pretty much everything they'd attempted to destroy the Lost Boys with had worn off.

"Running water?" Tommy looked up at them curiously, "nah. That one doesn't work on us. We swim all the time. Most of this nest is packed with that old Surf Nazi gang."

Alan's jaw dropped, "so that's why they haven't been stealing shit in the afternoon anymore!"

"Well...yeah, I guess. That and they're pretty much always surfing or eating nowadays. One-track minds. I'll be honest, none of these guys were too bright to begin with, and they're only getting worse," Tommy shook his head.

"Why are you one of them, anyway?" Alan knelt down, frowning at his former cousin, "you're kinda wimpy."

Tommy shrugged, "wrong place. Wrong time."

"Are there any weaknesses we're missing?" Edgar steered the topic smoothly back to offing bloodsuckers before it could delve into dangerously sentimental territory. In a way, he was shielding himself from the reality that he even knew Tommy before the apparent vampirizing. They'd had two years to accept their cousin's disappearance and apparent death, more than enough time to move on whether he was 6 feet under or 6 feet in the air, speaking of which..."you fly, too." He nodded.

"Uh...no, we don't." Tommy shook his head.

"Yes you do. Don't lie to me, shit-sucker!" Edgar demanded, which made his shorter cousin quickly climb to his feet and lash out at him, tearing the garlic necklace from him and tossing it over the side of the building in one swift movement. Edgar yelped, rubbing at the raw area of skin where the string had been yanked against.

"I can break your neck in an instant, Ed, so stop being an asshole," Tommy replied, flopping back down with a scowl. "We can't fly. Maybe it's because of all the sharks Shane makes us eat when we turn, but we definitely can't fly. I guess it's a trade-off for that running water bullshit you're talking about." He glared up at the stars, tempted to just kick both Frogs off of the roof for being such dicks to him. Finding out that apparently flying was a thing, and none of them could do it...that really made him mad.

"I read in a comic that you can read minds," Alan added, putting his hands defensively over his own garlic necklace.

"Nope. Can't do that one either. But...I think Shane can call us when he really wants to," Tommy replied, scratching his head.

"Call you?" Edgar's eyes widened, and he almost looked friendly, now that they were getting somewhere. "What do you mean?"

"Picture it like this...if I'm halfway across the city, I get a weird feeling when he wants me to come home. But the further away I am, the less it works. And I think he probably planned to see if he could do it on the slave down there..."

"Sam," Alan supplied.

"Right. Sam. Whatever. Shane doesn't give a fuck about any of us, really. We're all one big...experiment for him. He's an asshole." Tommy Paused. "But, incidentally, if he catches both of you before I'm gone...I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him I said that..." Tommy rubbed at one of his shoulders, flinching at the memory of Shane's last 'discipline' session, as if he was some kind of demonic nun and Tommy a recalcitrant convent girl. Only way less hot. It really sucked being the nest errand boy.

"So..." Edgar looked pensive, biting at the inside of his right cheek. "If we get Sam out of Santa Carla for a couple of weeks...the head vamp'll have less influence on him?"

"Yeah. Probably. I don't know." Tommy replied noncommittally. He'd pretty much just laid out his whole hand at this point, anything else was speculation.

* * *

Star leaned over the side of the rails, watching the boat cut into the water like a knife, carrying them aimlessly through the harbor. It wasn't heading towards the dock area, so they were fairly safe for the time being to just enjoy themselves while they trashed the place. She pulled back and looked back at the deck where Marko was using a dead body to play chess with Dwayne, who humored him for the gruesome effect.

Last week, she would have been terrified of the sight. She would have thought they were playing the game only to destroy her sanity at worst, and traumatize her at best. It was strange actively being able to see the humor in something like this now. She crossed her arms and pressed her hips up against the rails, watching them. When Marko tried to use the dead man's pawn to leap seven spaces across the bored and dry-hump Dwayne's queen, the taller vampire flipped the board over and punched the dead man in the face for cheating. Marko made a loud gasping noised, shaking the body in front of him as he threw it aside to fall limp on the floor.

"Dwayne! You killed him!" Marko gasped, pressing a hand against his own chest in mock horror. Dwayne just rolled his eyes and put a hand on Marko's face, shoving him away with a snort.

Star didn't notice Paul creeping up towards her, like a cartoonish villain, lifting his feet a little too high to be construed as anything other than ridiculous, holding his hands up in front of his face like tiger paws. The distended claws, of course, added to the effect. He could almost taste the victory now, Star's sweet blood running down his throat when he tackled her to the deck floor and proved he'd just been having an off day when she'd somehow managed to get the upper hand.

In a mad dash, Paul leaped towards Star just as she turned and crossed towards Dwayne and Marko to kneel down and start picking up the chess pieces, "can you teach me how to-" she paused at the sound of a loud ' _ **SPLASH**_ ' quickly followed by manic screams when a drenched figure sailed high up over the side of the rails and scrambled back onto the deck.

Spinning about, Star pressed her hands to her face in an effort to control her giggles, faced with the sight of a miserably burnt Paul, covered by welts and reddened patches, howling as he wiped the sea water from his eyes.

"Did you forget you could fly?" Dwayne asked dryly, standing up to cross towards Paul and poke him in the chest. The rocker vampire pulled back with a hiss, batting Dwayne away.

"Apparently he did," Marko snickered, biting the thumb of his glove.

Paul blinked blinded eyes several times, the corneas gray and unseeing, until they began to cloud over, and the outer layers peeled, revealing fresh glowing yellow behind it, and a very angry scowl as the rest of Paul's extremities began to gradually return to normal. Star watched in fascination, honestly wanting to walk over and just...poke at him, just to see what the skin would do...she wondered if there was some sort of stick somewhere on deck she could use to do it with.

"Oh dear," Marko said in a haughty voice, pulling out one of the dead men's pocket watches and examining it, "I do believe it's 12 O'Clock, old chap..."

"You mean princess?" Dwayne looked back at Marko with a half-smirk.

"Right. Princess. Hi, Princess. Have you met Star?" Marko grinned at a livid Paul, who lunged forward to attack him, only for Dwayne to grab him by his jacket collar and yank him back. Paul struggled, snapping his teeth wildly like an animal.

" _Let me the fuck go!_ " Paul yelled in Dwayne's mind, trying to slide out of the coat, with little success.

 _"Don't be such a sore loser, princess. It's not flattering,"_ Dwayne retorted right back at him.

Star had finally managed to control her giggle fits, giving Paul a once-over, "what were you trying to do?"

Once Paul had finally managed to calm himself down enough to stop glaring bloody murder at Marko, Dwayne released him, and he nearly fell to the ground in surprise. "I wanted to see how cold the water was," he replied snippily, crossing his arms. And for all the world, he looked like the most spoiled little brat Star had ever set eyes on in that moment. It was almost heartwarming.

"...Right..." Star narrowed her eyes suspiciously, really taking in his appearance. Had he been trying to rape her... _again?!_

* * *

Thorne jerked up at the sound of hollering and laughter, turning towards the sound with a vicious growl. A small group of men were approaching, laughing and toasting each other with foaming beer cans. If he were a normal dog, their smell would have sent him running away. But as it stood, he was happy to have something to pass the time while he waited for his evening babysitting job to end.

* * *

Michael jerked awake, looking about with slightly glazed eyes, confused and a little sore in more than one place. He made a move to sit up, when he realized he was being held very close to another bare chest. What's more, said chest did _not_ have any tits to speak of. He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel pretty fucking incredible, but he'd also be lying if he said he wasn't pretty fucking mad, too.

"Damn it, David!" Michael snapped, grabbing his mate's arm and yanking it away from around his shoulders, before scrambling up and climbing to his feet. David watched him stand with a self-satisfied smirk, clasping his hands behind his head and shrugging as if to say 'wasn't _my_ fault'.

"Mother...fucking...ass...jerk...dickface..." The younger vampire grumbled a dozen expletives as he searched the camp grounds for his underwear and pants, finding them balled up beside the dead girl. As he got dressed, he tried to string together a proper angry lecture to throw in David's face for pretty much getting him worked up and taking advantage of whatever insane sex-madness he apparently went into when he drank, but he was still far too upset to even begin to know where to start.

So, David decided to do the talking for them both, "someone needs to show you a calendar. In what world is a month...what...two days?"

"In the same world you can go fuck yourself," Michael threw back over his shoulder, zipping up his pants while he cast his eyes over the ground searching for his shirt and jacket.

"Nice one, Michael. Really..." David drawled, sitting up, "how about another round?"

Michael snatched up David's coat and threw it at him, with enough force to kill a normal man...if he was throwing a brick. Unfortunately, no amount of strength, vampiric or otherwise, could have made a coat an effective weapon. But at least it covered his stupid fucking face.


	31. Chapter 31: Bang Bang

Author's notes: Last night I started getting super dizzy, even had to call in to work today. Couldn't type anything. Anyway, hope this chapter makes up for it. And there's no way they'd count those seeds in less than an hour. There's like...thousands in just an ounce.

* * *

"So, would you be able to just read the comic and confirm a few-" Alan began, and Tommy could barely hear him, when his eyes focused on the approaching group striding through the sandy shore below. Standing up, he passed the Frog brothers to perch on the very edge of the roof and watch them, a sense of panic slowly rising within his chest. It was Shane and a few others, back from the hunt. They probably wouldn't be too happy when they found Sam inside, or the ferals down below still unfed. Reasonably, he could just say he'd found two meals for them and took them up to the roof for one last look at the ocean, but Tommy had never been a very good liar. And how would he explain Sam away?

Quickly, he dashed back towards the rooftop curtains, pulling them aside to yank the door open, Alan and Edgar spun about, confused and a little wary of how weird he was starting to act.

"I don't have time to read your stupid comic, Alan," Tommy tossed over his shoulder, "I've gotta hide you three before they find you. They're coming!"

Alan and Edgar exchanged a panicked glance, no longer the seasoned warriors they often thought themselves to be after a horror movie marathon, but two very scared teenagers realizing they might have gotten into something way over their heads.

Dashing down the steps, Tommy wasn't surprised when he saw Sam still anxiously craning over his poppy seeds, trying desperately to maintain his count. And...shit, now _he_ was looking at the seeds too!

"Here..." Tommy mumbled, legs carrying him away from the base of the stairs to lead him over to Sam and the beautiful trove of poppy seeds below, "let me help..." he fell to his knees, scrabbling for seeds, giddily scooping them up into his claws. They were so pretty...he knew there were things he had to do, like save his cousins from having their throats ripped out, save this kid from whatever kind of wrath Shane would inflict on him, save himself from some kind of horrible punishment...but...that could wait. This shouldn't take too long. An hour. Two at most...

"Oh...shit..." Edgar grunted, as he and Alan caught sight of the pair, counting away. "Hey, count them later!" He exclaimed, drawing up close to them and kneeling down, reaching out to try and scoop some of the seeds away, only to find both Sam and Tommy hissing at him angrily. Tommy's hiss was a little more effective, since he had the eyes and fangs to back them up, but it was still kinda freaky seeing Sam act like an insane cat-man over some stupid bits of spilled food.

"Dude, I think we need to come up with a plan," Alan backed away from Sam and Tommy, clutching at a stake and doing his best not to whimper in fear.

"Don't you think I know that?!" Edgar snapped at his brother, rounding on him with a scowl. His eyes fell on the mounds of sand surrounding them, and he wanted to gag at the idea of hiding under beach vampire grave dirt, but it didn't look like they had much choice. The real trick was going to be hiding Sam without having their hands bitten off in the process. And who knew how long they had before the door burst open and those suckers Tommy was talking about showed up?

* * *

Shane trailed behind his closest nest members, the first few he'd turned. More than than, they were his friends. His brothers. Strong, fast, and some of the best surfers in the city. Also, some of the toughest Surf Nazis around. Sure, turning them had pretty much gotten rid of the 'gang' as Santa Carla knew it, but after the contest on Friday...they'd make it known just how much more powerful they were. Shane had a vision. He wasn't content with knife fights and hustling anymore. Now that he had legitimate blood lust ruling his nights, he wanted so much more. He wanted the city. He wanted the world.

They were shaping into quite a formidable group. He grinned at the thought, taking a gulp of beer and kicking at a bit of sand. He felt good tonight. Junkies didn't taste too good, but they gave you such a good high...the lack of flavor was more then compensated by the rush. A world made sharper and more wild by his changed nature was amped up to the nth degree just with a couple of bites from a dealer by the docks who fell to the age-old weakness of trying his own product before pushing it.

"Hey, Shane, where'd you go?" Leonard nudged his shoulder, pulling Shane out of his egomanical fantasies, and the nest leader shook his head with a dry smile.

"The future, Leonard...just the future," he replied in his monotone voice. Leonard flinched at the sound. Shane was cool and all, but sometimes he sounded a little...creepy. But he supposed it made sense, them being vampires and all. Really, he was kinda made for this whole set-up. He hadn't been too normal when he was human, either.

A sudden growl permeated the air, threatening, dark, and far more disturbing than that of a normal dog. The five men drew to a stop, a few stumbling into each other in the process as they pressed close and locked eyes on the sight of a white German Shepherd in the distance, not too far from their nest, lips pulled back to reveal two sets of glittering yellow teeth.

"Oh man, are you seeing this shit?" Greg, the vampire at the head of the group squinted in the dark. Not because he couldn't see, but because he'd had so much blood pumping with all kinds of crazy chemicals tonight, he couldn't trust his own senses that the dog in front of them was even real.

Thorne wasn't going to wait around for them to figure out whether or not he existed, however, and soon he was dashing towards them at a startling pace, white paws kicking the sand up about him, jaws dripping with saliva.

"Spread out, guys, let's have a bit of fun!" Shane shouted, shoving Leonard to one side, and the somewhat drugged-up vampires eagerly followed their leader's orders, more than happy to have a bit of fun, even if the bloodshed was of the canine variety. Thorne sailed through the air, snapping his teeth together, tackling the nearest member of the group. His cries of amusement quickly melted into screams and finally gurgles as the hellhound above him quickly bit into and tore out a very large piece of his throat, practically choking on the taste in the process. Foul-smelling blood painted the sand around them, and the others watched in horrified fascination as one of their own, one of the top members of the food chain...was killed by a dog in less than half a minute.

Shane snarled as the high quickly died, lowering his head and signaling for the others to come closer. He wasn't heartbroken at the loss of his nest member, but he was definitely enraged, and...slightly unnerved. He'd never actually seen one of his own die, and he was beginning to finally grasp what that headache he'd been having lately when the others hadn't returned to the nest might have been.

So...was this the thing responsible for his missing fledglings? He didn't have too long to ponder this revelation as the dog reared up, the front of his coat smeared in dark blood, eyes glowing red as he prepared to advance on the rest of his quarry.

"What're we gonna do?!" Leonard panicked, claws and fangs drawn in preparation for a fight he doubted he could win, if what he'd just seen could be believed.

"Relax," Shane drawled, with less confidence than he felt at that moment as he tossed his beer can aside and slowly knelt to yank up one of his pant legs while he kept his eyes trained on the dog. "Dallas, why don't you go pet the doggie and distract him, huh?"

"What?!" A vampire at the edge of their group yelped, shaking his head wildly, "you can't be serious, man!"

Shane glowered at him, a look that brooked no arguments. And very reluctantly, Dallas lowered his head, kneeling down and holding out a shaky hand to the growling beast while it approached. Thorne paused, for just an instant, in confusion. They weren't running...they'd just _seen_ what he planned on doing to all of them...he'd never dealt with such idiotic prey before. What's more, their taste was terribly off-putting, even for a hellhound. Even for a dog. He leaped towards them in the blink of an eye, and a loud ' _ **BANG**_ ' rang through the air.

* * *

Star unclasped her dress and slowly lowered the sheer material, focusing on the door and making sure the chair she'd set in front of it was firmly in place. She was growing frustrated beyond belief that the others seemed to have countless conversations about and around her, and she couldn't hear a word of it. What's more, they'd clearly made some sort of agreement or bet with Paul...and it was obviously in regards to whether or not he'd get a second shot at _raping_ her. She should be horrified, disgusted, any manner of human emotions beyond just pure...irritation. But that's what she felt.

Because there was a little voice in her mind guiding her, a little voice that said _she'd_ won. She was in charge. If they ever got a go in the bed, it was on _her_ terms, not his. Snatching up her jeans, she angrily slipped them on, hopping to adjust the tight denim over her calves and thighs. She'd have to do a shopping trip of her own on the boardwalk, because it really rankled her that Marko had basically picked out her clothes without any sort of input from Star. She was just...tired of living by everyone else's terms. Things were going to have to change _soon_.

It didn't even strike her as odd that she'd hardly thought of Michael at all tonight, once they'd gone hunting. Oddly enough, the longer she was around Paul, the more distant she felt from her former lover. Like they'd only ever been friends at best, acquaintances at worst. It was a disturbing thought, considering the two years they'd spent living and sleeping and doing just about everything together while they ran from the pack. She didn't much like this train of thought. And it was happening way too fast. She'd thought after her first kill, she'd finished...changing. Apparently she was wrong.

Luckily, she didn't have to linger in her mind too long, when a distant sound made her jump, nearly dropping her shirt. It was followed quickly by a long, low howl...that somehow managed to dig itself and twist inside her dead heart. Something was _very_ wrong.

She quickly finished dressing and yanked the chair away from the door, pulling it open to find Paul standing just in front of it.

"Paul, wha-" She didn't have long to ask questions, when she felt his hand on hers, dragging her up above deck. Marko and Dwayne were already sailing through the air back towards shore, when Paul and Star allowed the wind to pick them up and sweep them away from the deck in pursuit of the others, as well as that awful sound...

* * *

"Damn...thing's still moving..." Shane kicked at the hellhound, whining and thrashing on the ground while his blood mingled with the dark mess of his only kill...and Dallas's hand, of course, which he'd managed to sink his fangs into and tear off in one quick twist before Shane had shot him through the chest.

"Where did it come from? It's not normal, that's for fucking sure..." Leonard crossed his arms, maintaining a good distance from the dog, not nearly so brave as Shane, who was having quite a lot of fun kicking, nudging, and jumping back from Thorne whenever the dog managed to get enough energy to try and twist around to snap at his foot.

"Dunno. Maybe it belongs to _them_..." Shane shrugged, exchanging glances with the others. They were the only members of his nest he'd told the full story to, about his death and rebirth, at the unwitting hands of David. Shane smirked, striding towards the observatory.

"What're you doing?" Leonard and the others dashed to keep up with him, casting a few wary looks back at the dog.

"They find us here, there's gonna be a fight. Don't wanna shed any blood until the contest, y'know?" Shane laughed, yanking open the door. "Let's grab a few things. Have a feeling we gotta shift the base a bit."

His eyes fell on Sam and Tommy scraping poppy seeds out of the sand inside, and quirked his eyebrows.

"...Well, wasn't expecting to see _you_ here." Sam didn't even look up as he continued to scrape up poppy seeds in his hands, counting frantically.

Shane didn't notice the slightly quivering mounds of sand nearby as he knelt to scoop up the last couple dozen poppy seeds, quickly counting them before he pocketed the prize.

"Tommy, I told you not to use that trick anymore. I'm disappointed in you," Shane sighed. And for all the world, as Tommy looked up at his master with his returning senses, he had no idea whether Shane was upset or amused. That was the problem with a guy with little to no inflection in his voice. Almost as unpredictable as the half-insane teenager beside him, who didn't know if he wanted to bow down to Shane or stake him in the moment.

* * *

"I won. You lost. Get on the bike, Michael," David demanded, as Michael stepped away from him with a stubborn growl.

"I never agreed to ride bitch with you, David."

"It was implied."

"No it fucking wasn't!"

"Look, the more time we waste arguing, the worse off Sammy is going to be if we don't find him," David shrugged, as if it didn't really matter to him whether Michael agreed or not, because he really didn't give a shit about the little mad bug-eating bastard. "Besides, you have to. That was the agreement. So just give in, already."

The younger vampire itched to punch David in the face, but they wouldn't get anywhere if they just kept getting into fights, tearing into each other, and apparently...well...other things, if David had anything to say about it. That wasn't really how Michael wanted to spend the rest of his night, when Sam could very well have done something very stupid by now (no thanks to the Frogs), and was likely in a much worse situation than he'd been in the night before. But no matter how much he cared about his little brother, he wasn't about to give David the satisfaction of knowing he'd won their little agreement...or bet...or whatever you wanted to call it.

"I don't have to do anything, David," Michael replied darkly, backing away even further, his mind running a mile a minute to try and figure out a way out of another fight, because he could already see the frustration brewing behind David's eyes, the tension building in his shoulders as he readied himself to jump off of his bike if he had to. And that was when it hit him..."because I only...I only agreed not to touch you or Star for a month. I didn't technically agree I'd just...be your 'mate' or whatever if I lost," he stated with more than a little smug satisfaction. "You need to pay more attention to how you word things."

David narrowed his eyes, silently, as he kicked his bike into gear. "This isn't over," he warned, taking off through the woods. Michael stood in the clearing, watching him until he'd disappeared behind the trees. He turned back towards the dead couple on the ground and sighed, taking off into the sky in pursuit of the lingering scent of his brother.


	32. Chapter 32: Sand Frogs

Author's notes: Debating what kind of music Star would listen to. What do you think, guys...Heart or Joni Mitchell?

* * *

Water licked at the tip of Dwayne's boots as he stood gazing along the shoreline, a good distance from the others as they knelt around their beloved pack protector and pet. He could just barely feel the warmth of the water trying to break through the protective shield of his shoes, begging to burn the skin beneath. They had found the nest and Thorne together in one fell swoop, and it turned his stomach to think about the creatures beneath that trap door. He didn't need to open it to sense their sheer lack of...sanity. They were feral. Dangerous. The sort of nuisance that generally only popped up in Santa Carla in numbers of three at most. Usually they were taken out without the boys even having to lift a finger, as dumb as they tended to be.

More than a dozen were down there, though, waiting and begging for food, like baby birds crying to the sky. And any minute now, the fingers of dawn would creep over the horizon to send them into a restless slumber. They'd have to be dealt with before the night was through. He saw little chance that whoever was responsible would return tonight, if ever. And he didn't doubt that particular monster in question was responsible for Thorne's miserable condition. The hellhound was far from dead, but...well...he was far from walking either.

"Poor thing," Star cooed over the vicious animal, holding his head in her lap while she stroked delicate fingers through his fur. Scenting pack on her, he didn't lash out, but the dog was desperately confused and distressed. He had failed at his master's task, and what's more, he was in agony. The bullet that had ripped through his chest and spine wasn't enough to kill him, though it most certainly would have if he hadn't been of the supernatural variety, but it had certainly put him out for the count for at least a week. A hellhound could not heal so quickly as a vampire. The unholy fires that had been responsible for Thorne's birth were far too ancient to take the power of guns and bullets into account.

Marko examined the bullet wound, leaning down and pushing white fur aside to focus on the sight of pink flesh sluggishly attempting to heal over a burning hole. "It's going to take awhile," he remarked, patting Thorne's side and sighing. "Guess I can let the pigeons go," he joked. But the hellhound wasn't quite intelligent enough to understand the humor, nor coherent. He could only whine in response, while Star tried to press his head into her lap and make sounds of sweet, soothing nonsense in his ears.

Paul crouched beside her, motionless as he watched his mate attempt to calm the animal, too shocked to even make a smart retort. He'd never seen Thorne vulnerable like this. Even when they'd come on their weekly teasing ventures at Max's house, pelting the dog with rocks and insults to work him up just to piss Max off, they'd never actually seen the hellhound in actual pain. While Thorne wasn't one of them in the traditional sense, not a true pack-mate, it was just as infuriating to see the creature suffer. Because he was _their_ property. He would enjoy hunting down the guy in charge of this nest just to have a little payback. You didn't touch what belonged to the Lost Boys, and you definitely didn't try to kill it...if you knew what was good for you.

The wind about them stirred up the waters and the sand, causing Dwayne to step back before he got splashed by the salty ocean mist. He tilted his head up to the sky, as Michael descended beside him, twisting his head wildly and sniffing at the air.

"He's gone. Been gone for awhile..." Dwayne remarked, grabbing Michael by the shoulder and causing the younger vampire to jerk to attention. It was obvious who he was looking for. For Dwayne, there was no mistaking the scent of the little bastard who'd barbecued him on that stereo.

"Where?" Michael asked, voice low and gravelly. He'd worked himself up on the journey over to be more than fairly enraged at whatever scene he could have arrived on.

Dwayne shook his head, black hair flying about him, "don't know. Maybe the water. He just left...with others..." He nodded back towards the observatory, "but I think his friends are hiding in there. Might want to ask them." He would have been more than happy to barge in on the nest on his own, snapping the boys' necks, but something told him it was better to wait. Dwayne rarely took action without thought, even more so after he'd just barely gotten up close and personal with actual death before David managed to gather his and the others' remains to resurrect them.

"Is David coming?" Dwayne asked curiously, crossing his arms and turning his back on the tide as he strode towards the group crouching around Thorne.

"Guess so," Michael replied, dashing towards the observatory, still trying to pick out Sam's scent...but...it ended there. Dwayne was right. He must have been taken somewhere...through the water...he just hoped his brother was still alive. There'd be hell to pay if he wasn't. He pressed his hands to his head, kneeling down and squeezing his eyes shut tight. What the fuck was he going to do? What was he going to tell mom?!

 _"This shit isn't a game anymore,"_ Paul sighed, unconsciously drawing closer to Star as he tried to help comfort the hellhound.

 _"So I guess we're not going to just have a nice little chat with them on Friday,"_ Dwayne snorted, rolling his eyes at Paul. It had never been a game. Pretending it was would only get them into worse trouble. Whether they were ten times stronger than the nest or not, none of them had any idea how many they'd be up against. And clearly, with the bizarre hive-mind in the observatory, there really was no telling just how many of them there were by now. No wonder the pickings on the boardwalk had been slimmer than usual. He didn't have any issue with killing. Hell, he enjoyed it...but there was definitely a tipping point. They couldn't afford to have their meal source culled down so quickly, if they hoped to continue to stay in Santa Carla. This wasn't about morals. It was about territory.

Michael gazed at the concrete walkway leading out towards the observatory, crossing his arms and pondering whether he should make a mad dash for it now, or wait for David to arrive. As mad as he was at the bastard right now, he wasn't too sure he wanted to go in alone. And the others were far too focused on the dog thrashing in the sand. Plus, the smell...oh man, the smell coming from that place was sickening...

* * *

Sam shivered, picking over wet rocks as he waded through waist-deep ocean water, the fading sliver of moon that cast itself into the cavern providing little enough light for him to see by. His shoes were done for, but they were thick enough to protect his feet from the sharpened points and jagged ground below. Tommy waded behind him, holding Sam by the shoulders to keep him from falling.

Shane and the others led the way, Dallas having stripped off his shirt to cover the stump of his wrist where his hand had once been. The blood had finally ceased to flow, but he'd need to go hunting first thing the next evening, if he expected to be very useful.

"Wh...where are we?" Sam asked, teeth chattering as he tried to adjust to the cold air biting at him with the lapping of the tide against his waist. The further they advanced through the cavern, the higher the ground level and the less water brushed up against him, and the less light he was able to see by. He just had to trust the small vampire gripping his shoulders to keep him from stumbling.

"Vacation home," Shane replied sarcastically, pushing even further into the cavern. "Our home away from home. You'll get used to it." He didn't ask why or how Sam had showed up at the observatory. So the boy was safe from any inquiries about the Frogs, it seemed, for now. He really hoped Shane didn't interrogate him, because he didn't trust his own tongue not to sell his friends out. Nor did he trust himself not to reveal something major, like the fact that he was sure any day now his brother would show up to rip everyone's throats out. He hoped.

"Man, Mike...I'm in deep shit..." he mumbled under his breath, nearly squeaking in terror when he felt something small and slimy brush by his ankle.

Tommy leaned close and patted his shoulder, "just keep your cool. Keep your mouth shut. I'll do the talking if I need to," he whispered in Sam's ear.

"Why do you even care?" Sam pressed back against Tommy so Shane wouldn't overhear him.

"Cause Shane's a dick, I think I already told you that," Tommy whispered back, drawing to a stop and yanking Sam closer when the nest leader turned back to cast a glance at both of them. Shane wrinkled his nose and nearly gagged.

"Dude, no gay stuff in the cavern, you got it?"

Sam blanched and looked back at Tommy then Shane as the rest of the vampires laughed at the pair, some of them making lewd gestures.

"Fu...I'm not gay!" Tommy sputtered, nearly pushing Sam away, but catching himself at the last second and jerking the boy closer again If the kid hurt himself, Dallas would probably lose it and try to eat him. It didn't sound like this was the first time Shane had accused Tommy of 'gay stuff'. Sam tried to repress the thought 'no smoke without fire', recalling the odd rumors about himself at school just because he had fashion sense. And the visions of his potential future if Shane kept him around gave him one more reason to fight the insane compulsion to do just about everything his master asked. He didn't need to spend a possible eternity in the worst parts of high school. He just hoped his mouth and brain would listen to each other for once.

* * *

"Ed..." Alan whispered. "Ed!"

"What?"

"I think...I think the coast is clear."

"Yeah...I think you're right..."

"So...you wanna...you wanna check?"

Ed pushed a clump of Sand off of his head and tossed his hair, "yeah. They're gone..."

"All of them?" Alan asked, remaining hidden as best he could.

"Yep."

"Sam?"

"Yep."

"...Tommy?"

"Dude. They're _GONE_."

"...Oh, shit..."

"What?"

"I think...Sam might be dead..."

They were silent for a long moment, before Ed finally croaked, "maybe he's not. You never know. We woulda heard screaming, wouldn't we? Right?!"

The sudden howling and shrieking followed by frantic scrapes against the trapdoor nearby sent both boys jettisoning out of the building and tearing down the concrete walkway, only to stop short at the very end when the sight of Sam's brother and the Lost Boys came into view...

"Oh, Shit!" Alan gasped, taking off in one direction, while Ed tried to take off in another. Michael immediately dashed forward and grabbed them both by the back of the collar, dragging them back towards the others, kicking and squirming.

"Going somewhere?" Michael demanded, giving them a good shake, "if Sam's dead, you're dead. You got it?" He passed Edgar off to a very eager Marko, who hadn't forgotten their last encounter.

"We didn't know they'd show up so fast!" Alan protested, "c'mon, man! We _saved_ you!" Alan paused, gasping and trying to regain his breath as his eyes roamed over the others. They didn't have any friends here, clearly. "...Temporarily. We saved you temporarily! Doesn't that count for anything?!"

Edgar didn't have anything to add, as Marko pinned his arms to his side so he couldn't get a hand on one of his stakes. The curly-haired vampire leaned close to him, fangs dripping as he grinned, looking for all the world like he was just about ready to chomp down. Edgar squeezed his eyes shut tight, whimpering as he tried to take a deep breath to brace himself for the bite. For the end of it all. Today, the saga of the Frog brothers was coming to a close. An ignominious ending for such great hunters as themselves.

"Whose idea was it to come here?" Michael asked quietly, giving Alan a good shake while simultaneously ignoring Marko's head games. The shorter vampire had no intention on eating Ed, but the threatening expressions were enough to just about make him piss himself.

"It...it was a joint effort," Edgar replied, eyes still shut tight.

"We just wanted to save Sam! Honest!" Alan added, trying to weasel himself out of Michael's firm grasp, only to find fingers and claws digging a little bit tighter into his fore-arms.

"If he's dead, you're dead. You got that?" Michael hissed, pulling Alan in close and giving him another shake for good measure. He never really hated the Frog brothers. Maybe at one time, he'd been grateful for what they'd at least tried to do for him and his family. But this was the limit. Knowing full well what they were dealing with now, they didn't even have the excuse of ignorance to lead them back into the night with stakes and holy water. What's more, they were a large part of the reason Sam got himself in thrall. And now...fuck, Michael _really_ wanted to tear their throats out.

"We got it, we got it!" Edgar insisted, "but...but if they'd wanted to kill him, wouldn't they have just done it and left him there?" He added, in a sudden burst of inspiration. He cracked his eyes open slightly to try and look back to gauge Michael's reaction, only to find Marko leaning closer and snapping his fangs in the boy's face. Edgar whimpered, closing his eyes again and trying to brace himself for whatever was about to come.

"Marko, don't play with your food," David called out, striding over the sand with his hands tucked into his pockets and a cigarette in his lips. Dwayne gave him a quick mental breakdown of the situation, and the blonde pack leader almost burst into laughter. "Let them go."

" _What?_ " Marko protested in David's mind, looking back and forth between him and Edgar. " _Can't we eat just one of them?_ " He pouted, tossing Edgar away with such force that the boy toppled from the concrete walkway and into the shallow shore with a yelp.

"You too, Michael," David added, glancing back over at the younger vampire, who shrugged and quickly yanked the stakes off of Alan's belt, as well as any other weapons he could find with a free hand to toss into the water before dropping him to the ground in a heap.

"Giving them a head start?" Dwayne called from behind, standing close to Paul and Star, who still kept themselves busy nursing the hellhound.

David pulled the cigarette from his lips, flicking the ash off of the tip and watching it flutter through the air, before looking back over at Dwayne with a slight smirk, "nah. We're taking them back to the cave. We'll tie them up, use them as bait on Friday." He looked back down at Edgar, who was slowly wading from the water, coughing and burping up mouthfuls of salty water with a disgusted face at the horrible taste.

"And if we find out your little Sammy is dead, well...you can do whatever you want with them," David glanced back over at Michael, satisfied to note he wasn't even bothering to repress a dark smirk. They could fight later, once this whole nest issue was dealt with.

"Dwayne," David called to the darker-haired vampire, who slowly strode towards him. "Take care of that," he nodded towards the sound of hungry moans from the observatory. "We don't want any of them going for a nice walk later on the boardwalk, do we?"

"Might be fun. Put a few of them on a leash..." Paul suggested with a grin, bobbing his head as he popped a piece of gum in his mouth.

"Michael...are you just going to leave your bike out in the open for someone to steal? Do you want to ride bitch?" David inquired idly, and the younger vampire cursed under his breath, taking off.

David rolled his eyes and followed him. Yeah, he wasn't going to let the brunette out of his sight for a _long_ time.

"I'll take the kiddos if you grab the puppy," Paul nudged Star, who nodded quietly, doing her best to scoop Thorne into her arms without jostling him too much.


	33. Chapter 33: Bedtime

"Oh man, I'd pay to see that shit again," Paul laughed from the couch as he focused intently on lighting his joint, only to just get quick sparks from his lighter before he tossed it behind him with a sigh. "Marko, gimme your lighter!"

The shorter vampire glanced over his shoulder with a sneaky smile, "no can do, princess. You know the rules." He turned back to His task at hand, tugging at the bonds he'd secured the Frog brothers together with.

"Too tight?" He cocked his head when Edgar flinched and nodded, looking down at the thick strips of torn sheet tying his hands and ankles together, trying to avoid looking at Marko's face. He kept his features morphed into a grotesque mask, just to make the Frogs squirm. That, and it really was more comfortable.

"How long are you going to keep us here?" Alan asked the dreaded question, tied just as roughly as his brother, bound behind him on the lobby floor.

"What's today?" Marko asked.

"Uh...technically Thursday morning..." Edgar replied warily, mind running a mile a minute and heart desperately thundering in his chest, trying to find an escape route just in case it's owner bit the big one.

"Friday night. Don't worry though, Thorne'll be out here to keep you company," Marko snickered as he stood up and hopped over to the couch to flop down beside Paul. Star watched them from the bed, fluffing moldy covers around the hellhound and stroking his head. A morbid, selfish part of her wished she still had Laddie around to coddle and care for, on a more shallow level. Genuine maternal instinct had died with her humanity. Realistically, though, bringing another kid back would be more trouble than it was worth. So she just had to settle with a vicious furry monster borne of hellfire and human sacrifice. It beat changing diapers.

She still hadn't spoken with Michael. Didn't know what to say to him. Right now he was so focused on worrying about his little brother, he wasn't even giving her an occasional accusatory glance to stoke her guilt. He was just...pacing...and it was making everyone restless. She wanted to say something to calm him down, but she had a feeling her words didn't carry the same weight with him anymore. Not until he was ready to talk to her again.

"Gimme!" Marko snatched the joint from Paul's hand and he made a move to grab at it, when he got a warning growl in response. Star's eyes locked on them as she continued to stroke Thorne's fur, wondering if they were all in for a good show before bed. But, to her surprise, Paul reluctantly withdrew from the couch and stomped off towards her. Marko laughed as he watched him go, pulling out his lighter and relaxing against the couch cushions.

"What was that about?" Star asked him as he sat down beside her on the mattress, leaning close to the hellhound to see how he was doing. Though it seemed like it was mostly pretense. At least Thorne wasn't whining anymore, though.

"Nothing," Paul shrugged, pulling away from the dog and scooting a little closer to Star with a dark smile.

"You just don't give up, do you?" She sighed, exasperated more than anything as she scooted further away from him. She really didn't want to get into a fight right now. The sun was already approaching, and she could feel sleep beckoning her to their resting place.

"Nope," Paul grinned, flashing his teeth at her.

* * *

Dwayne flopped down beside Marko on the couch, snatching the lit joint from his hand and taking a drag. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, relaxing into the upholstery. Friday couldn't get here fast enough. He just wanted what would ultimately prove to be a very short fight to be over and done with, so they could get back to their old routine. Even if two years was really the blink of an eye for their kind, none of them liked change. They were creatures of habit. It was already bad enough having to deal with the changes time forced on them as it passed, and decades melted into one another, they didn't need any other wrenches thrown into the good thing they had going.

Frankly, Laddie, Star, Michael...they were all changes Dwayne didn't much appreciate when they'd been brought back to the hotel one-by-one. Changes Max wanted. Changes David needed. The dark-haired vampire turned his head and cracked his eyes open to glance at their pack leader, who was busy focusing on Michael's slow pacing, chin propped up against his fist. Pensive. It was nice to see him acting a little bit more...normal these days, though. Even if he was still on edge, dealing with a mating he'd frankly forced on his fledgling a little too quickly. But hell, at least the drama was fun to watch.

About a decade ago, David had started acting...off. A little bit less like himself. A little bit more like Max. Impulsive. Laddie was Max's impulse, and Star was David's...but she hadn't quite been enough to settle him down. Didn't want to feed. Didn't want to fight. She just... _took_ everything David gave her, and...accepted it. It almost made him worse, the way Star remained ever the innocent victim, the anchor keeping Laddie from feeding. Granted, that had been a good thing, given how much more difficult it was going to be having an effective pack with a child vampire trailing them everywhere. He was a cute kid, but children weren't...they just didn't work out. Not old enough to control themselves as humans, much less capable as vampires.

When Michael showed up, trailing her like a puppy on the boardwalk...it had almost been too good to be true. David was acting like himself again. Then, of course, there was that little issue that almost got them all wiped out. If anything had convinced their pack leader what he wanted, that certainly had.

"Fucking psycho..." Dwayne laughed in David's mind, and the blonde looked back at him with a curious frown.

"What?"

Dwayne silently shrugged, before took another drag and passed the joint back to Marko with a slow, lazy smile. They'd be heading to sleep soon. This could potentially be described as the longest night ever, in his mind. But at least, once this was all said and done, the nest disposed of...he could have a bit of fun playing tag team on the princess bet with Marko. Paul had to pretty much let them do whatever they wanted for the next week. Within reason. They weren't nearly as sadistic as him when it came to losing bets, even if the fucker did deserve a bit of torture now and then for the shit he pulled.

* * *

Michael reluctantly stopped pacing at the lobby entrance, turning his back on the brightening morning blue, and receding deeper into the hotel with a yawn. He wanted to stay up longer. Immortal or not, the trade-off of having a permanently fixed sleep schedule was a bitch, and he'd only been doing it for a few days. Tomorrow he'd have to talk to mom and grandpa about Sam...

He didn't miss the dark look David gave him, though he could only imagine why. It wasn't like the bastard could read his mind.

"Tired?" David asked, lazily kicking his wheelchair back and forth with one leg, chin still propped up on his hand.

"Yeah," Michael reluctantly admitted, scratching his head and trailing across the lobby as the others began to rise and leave the room. He watched Star give Thorne one last swift pat before departing just ahead of Paul. He should feel jealous. Irritated. Something. But losing his eye, being lied to, used...he just couldn't summon up anything but disinterest. He couldn't even _hate_ her. Couldn't hate David either, and Michael wasn't really sure what bothered him more. Because he certainly thought after trying to kill the guy, there'd always be that lingering sense of spite. There _had_ been, at any rate, before the bar.

He stood motionless for awhile, crossing his arms as Dwayne and Marko finally disappeared through the wisp of a curtain leading through the hotel to their sleeping quarter. Then there was a leather glove on his neck, a thumb brushing against his scar, and Michael shrugged David's arm away with an irritated grunt.

"C'mon, Michael. Sun's coming up," David grinned, poking him in the back. Michael just rolled his eyes, deciding not to give him the satisfaction of a retort, or a reason to have another fight. It was too early for that shit right now.

"Yeah, yeah...I'm going," Michael sighed, taking to the air, just as David grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back down. "What is it now?!" He exclaimed, spinning about to face the blonde with a tired frown.

"You're gonna beg for it next time, Michael," David warned, leaning in close, gripping Michael's chin with his thumb and forefinger, "and I'll be waiting. Next time, there's no getting out of it. When I have you, and believe me...I will...there won't be any more fireside chats. You're mine. You always will be." He whispered, disappearing in a flutter of fabric, leaving Michael watching him go with a dumbfounded expression, before taking off after him and cussing under his breath.

* * *

Edgar and Alan leaned up against each other, occasionally fidgeting with their too-tight bonds, but mostly just trying to maintain their cools so they didn't spend the whole day screaming their lungs out because they were trapped in a bloodsucker's den not more than ten feet away from a convalescent hellhound.

"Dude...what do you think that was about?" Alan whispered, watching Michael disappear through the moth-eaten curtain.

"Vampires don't think like us, Alan. Probably some kinda crazy blood-drinking ritual or something. You never can tell," Edgar grunted back, shifting on the hard floor to try and get a little more comfortable.

Alan looked doubtful, though his brother couldn't see him. He was pretty sure he had a vague idea what _that_ was about. And if they ever saw Sam again, man was he in for a surprise. Of course, being a soulless creature of the night was probably worse than...that. But still, insult to injury...

* * *

Author's notes: So concludes the very short final chapter of Power Play. But fear not! The third part of this trilogy begins tomorrow. Keep your eyes peeled for 'Good Times'. Hope you liked this one, cause the fun's not over yet. God...that sounded really cheesy, saying it out loud. Whatever. This story was going to turn into a monster if I didn't figure out a good place to cut it off somewhere.


End file.
